


Gakutalia: The Final Beginning

by XOs



Series: The Gakutalia Adventures [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Comedy, Competition, Conflict, Drama, Friendship, Gen, High School, Music, Platonic Relationships, School, Schoolwork, Students, Talent Shows
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-08-19 11:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 44,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16533761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XOs/pseuds/XOs
Summary: "Mr Jones, please stay late after class."Welcome to World Academy, a prestigious school with a wide variety of interesting students! In this institution, we ensure that students are well prepared in conveying their ideas to the academic world via tasks such as English Coursework, but also allow them to balance their social lives with organising parties and entertaining events. This term, World Academy can guarantee the splendour of our annual Talent Show. We hope that you will sit back and enjoy the drama.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ. IMPORTANT NOTICE: This series includes scenes of domestic violence. Whilst not graphic depictions of violence, these may be hurtful for some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second fic I wrote on my FanFiction.net account that I'll be transferring here. This one really resonates with me, because it was written when I was struggling with the final year of school. It was also when I got a little more well-versed in the personalities of the characters, especially compared to _Scaretalia_. Since the characters are in a human AU, I'll be using their human names, which I'll list in the End Notes.
> 
> I've also changed the name of this fic. On FanFiction.net it's called _Gakutalia: The First Term_ , but I find that to be a kinda boring title now, whence I've changed the name. I hope you all enjoy this next stage of vintage XOs. My sister really enjoyed this series in particular.

**Alfred Jones**

* * *

_In my head, I sometimes imagine so much more is out there. When I wake up and look in the mirror, I see a face that will one day be loved and adored by everyone. I can see that charming smile. You'll have a great girl once you're out in the world! And, no, despite what Arthur says and what Matt implies, you'll even get a great degree. Check that! You could be the president when you're older! Oh and, by the way, that comment about the charming smile? I even say that to myself as a much needed pep talk to start the day._

_There's this thing... It's not easy being as popular and intelligent as I am. The girls flock to me! I'm the hero. I run into the scene and show what's meant to be done. My well rounded personality means I also happen to be a_ great _role model. When kids see me on the TV, they'll think: "That's the guy I want to be". Even the_ girls _will think that._

"Mr Jones, please stay late after class," Miss Ronan sighed, and several snickers flowed across the room.

"Wait, why?" Alfred sat up in his chair in horror.

"Is sitting in front of me, blatantly not listening, let alone ignoring my questions, good enough?" she turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "Add answering back to that list."

"Oh, come on..." he muttered under his breath and then gazed out of the window.

In his opinion, Math (yeah, Math, not  _Maths_ , Arthur) was a complete waste of time. Jumbling a bunch of numbers together was something he really didn't like doing, let alone forcing them into equations. Last year, he was sent to the headmistress' office for saying "I don't want to force numbers together. That's forced breeding and therefore illegal, Sir." But that was in the good old days when his Math teacher was Mr Tyler, who became aggravated by pretty much anything anyone did or said. Now, he had Miss Ronan, who was way more controlled and somehow managed to deflect any comments he made.

He'd heard rumours about her. She was the Math teacher that made  _Gilbert Beilschmidt_ do Math. Apparently, she kept him in so much during lunch, rather than after school, and got him to recite as many times tables as possible until he would rather do the other stuff. She had also, apparently, been able to completely send all his jokes and comments out the window. If Gilbert Beilschmidt, the King of his year, the most awesome kid in school before he left for university, was forced to do Math from this woman, then he, Alfred Jones, stood no chance.

Speaking of "Beilschmidt"... He turned slightly in his seat and looked towards the King of Awesome's younger brother, Ludwig Beilschmidt. He sat diligently working, writing down everything Miss Ronan was saying.

_I suppose it doesn't run through the family_ , he pondered, and then a tapping on his desk brought him back to the real world.

"Alfred, do you  _really_ want me to keep you in this lunchtime?" she threatened, her pen resting on his desk.

"No, Ma'am," he frowned and picked up his pen.

"Alright," she walked to the board and tapped it with her pen. "Can you tell me the answer to this?"

Alfred looked at all the numbers swimming across the board. "Five."

"Alfred, we're doing quadratic equations," she prompted. "Five isn't right."

"Four?"

She sighed. " _Quadratic equations_ , Alfred. And this question's already been half completed by the rest of the class. Do you remember quadratic equations?"

"Um..." he sunk lower in his seat. "Yeah?"

"OK, well, I've give you a clue," she said. "There are two results."

"Four and five?" he guessed.

She sighed, lowered her head, and then glanced around the classroom. "Can anyone  _else_ quickly work out the answer for Alfred, here?"

He brooded as she gazed across the classroom, and then pointed towards back. "Yes, Kiku?"

"The answers are two and minus zero point five."

Alfred turned in his chair and looked at him in disbelief. He'd heard Asians were good at Math, but this was ridiculous. He was fairly sure that Kiku had sacrificed his social life in his pursuit of Math. He turned moodily back to the front, ignoring the quiet snickers and sneering glances aimed towards him.

He waited for the torture to end. The bell rang and he started packing his bag, shoving his cursed Math books inside with everything else. He stood alongside the flow of students heading towards the door and started shifting slowly out of the classroom.

"Alfred, a word, remember?" Miss Ronan said from her desk.

_Yes, whence I'm leaving_ , he thought, but turned with an anxious smile and approached her desk, where she sat.

"Yes, Ma'am?" he asked.

She placed an elbow on the table and glanced at him. "I sometimes really wonder if you should have a Maths tutor to help you. I don't say that to offend you, but I'm worried about how you're progressing in this subject. Quadratic equations are something you do in Years Ten and Eleven. That's freshman and sophomore; you're a senior now."

"I've never been good at Math, Miss Ronan," he admitted sheepishly. "And I never really understood them when we  _first_ learned about them..."

"You never asked Mr Tyler to go over them in person?" she gave him a pointed look.

In truth, Alfred had never aspired to  _try_ and understand quadratic equations. Mr Tyler had insisted he go to Maths Clinic, get a tutor, see him after class, lunch, school, anything, but Alfred insisted he knew his quadratics. He didn't.

His only way to reply was to offer her a baffled expression and shrug his shoulders.

"I think I'll start tutoring you," she decided. "You already go to a well-established school and, as your teacher, it's my job to make sure you get the results at the end of the day. That means I don't want you having to put additional money towards outside education when you're already here."

"Miss, I honestly don't have time for Math," Alfred shrugged arrogantly.

"Do you know who you remind me of?" she said. "Gilbert Beilschmidt. I'm sure you were here when he was still in school?"

Alfred nodded. A young, excitable Year Ten Alfred had seen Year Thirteen Gilbert as an amazing role model. He had admired him so much, and then he'd been gone when he reached Year Eleven the next year. However, the memory of the King of Awesome had imprinted on Alfred's mind, and the 'Awesome' was left in the school in a loudly written "Gilbert = King of Awesome" that the older Beilschmidt son had apparently written during his sophomore year on the bottom corner of the previous headmaster's door. Only the students knew about that, though...

"That boy refused to learn Maths," Miss Ronan continued. "But I pressed and pressed until even  _he_ got an A as his final grade. It was a low A, but it was an  _A_ , Alfred, and that's what counts. It's achievable. I know you can do it if you put the effort in, but if I go through the basics with you and reteach you on all the parts you're shaky on, the foundations will help you with the higher things."

"Can't I just do a foundation paper?" he asked, bored.

"I don't want you having to do that," she said pointedly. "I want you to at least put in your best efforts. If you're still struggling by the end of the Easter term, we'll see what we can do about a foundation paper. In the meantime, you and I'll be doing a lot of Maths work after school. We'll work out the days later. Have a good break."

Sourly, Alfred nodded and walked out of the classroom. The corridor was empty. No one had chosen to wait for him. Sullenly, he walked down the stairs and into the flow of students heading off for their break. He himself had a different purpose.

There was a place he had been meeting with his friends since Year Eleven. He remembered the first day he'd gone to the hideout with the other four.

It had been the summer of Year Ten, the last day of school for the Year Thirteens. A younger Alfred had hurried towards the bus stop in front of the school where the older students were gathered. He'd been nervous at the time, but when he saw the silvery white hair of his role model, he'd been filled with excitement and wonder.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt!" he'd called as he'd ran down to the slight, sloping hill that led to the bus stop outside the school.

The older boy had turned, mildly curious at the voice calling his name and, although his conversation had been interrupted, he'd been pretty cool about it.

He had said. "Hey there, kid. What's up?"

"I want to know the place where you used to meet up," young Alfred had begged. "I want to be just as awesome as you by the time  _I'm_ leaving World Academy."

A couple of kinds had glanced at him at the time and Alfred thought they'd been questioning, but then Gilbert had smiled at him, amused by this statement.

"Rule Number One," he'd held up a finger. "You can't be as awesome as the King of Awesome. Ever. But you can still be a little awesome... Rule Number Two? Follow the base. The Awesome will guide you."

After that, the bus had arrived and Gilbert had had to leave. Alfred had watched in amazement as his childhood hero was swept out of his life, just like that. He hadn't seen or heard from Gilbert since, but everything the older boy, a young man now, had did and said was etched into Alfred's core.

It had taken him a week, three days, fourteen hours and fifty-two minutes to work out how Rule Number Two worked. The time was a rough estimate. The base meant the bottom, but of what he had had no idea. It finally occurred to him, after weeks searching the music room, much to Roderich Edelstein's dismay and irritation. He'd been looking for the bass. However, then he realised it was the bottom of something. It had been Arthur's idea to check somewhere secluded, which had led them to the forest nearby the school. No one went there, and that was when Alfred had seen the crosses scratched into the trunks. He'd followed them in a depressing circle. It was Yao's idea to check the base of the trunk, which have given them straight directions to which tree they needed to go to.

The King of Awesome's base had been very worth it indeed. They'd all been surprised to find an old treehouse hidden amongst the trees. Climbing up, Alfred had found the place he'd wanted to find. It was well built and, in the door was written: "Awesome wuz here". Entering, he'd found the coolest things ever. It was just riddled with posters of things Gilbert and his friends had liked. There were beanie bags, a music player and even an old football abandoned in the corner. The strangest thing had been the bed in the corner, but Gilbert was long gone before Alfred could've asked him anything about that. It was the one place nobody ever went. Nobody had ever found Gilbert's base and now it seemed it had been passed on from on King to the next.

Alfred was well aware of Rule Number One, but his dream had only grown as he'd gotten older, to the point where he wanted to exceed Gilbert.

The base was there and he climbed up into the small, four-walled room to see the other four lounging around.

"I can't believe you guys didn't wait for me," he complained and threw himself down on the bed, which was really just two mattressed on top of one another with a blanket.

"We were hardly going to hang around whilst you were scolded for not paying attention," Arthur rolled his eyes.

"You should try listening," Francis added. "You might get into less trouble."

"If my parents got an e-mail or comment about me doing something like you, I'm fairly sure they'd prohibit me leaving the house until my grades were stellar once more, aru," Yao glanced at him.

"I convince my teachers that they're wrong," Ivan smiled, staring into space, and ending his sentence a little ominously.

_Has he always been this strange?_ Alfred wondered, but then laughed despite himself.

They might have been assholes, they might have even been a little weird, but the four others sitting in the new King's house were his friends. And Alfred didn't mean the new King of Awesome.

He was the King of Heroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Alfred Jones** : America  
>  **Arthur Kirkland** : England  
>  **Francis Bonnefoy** : France  
>  **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia  
>  **Yao Wang** : China  
>  **Feliciano Vargas** : North Italy  
>  **Ludwig Beilschmidt** : Germany  
>  **Kiku Honda** : Japan
> 
> **Gilbert Beilschmidt** : Prussia  
>  **Matthew Jones** : Canada


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just letting everyone know that I put all names at the bottom, as I use a mixture of canon, fanon and my own chosen names for the characters.

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**

* * *

"Mr Jones, please stay late after class."

Ludwig Beilschmidt had raised his head from the disturbance in his lesson. Naturally, and as expected, it was Alfred Jones, that one guy who believed he owned the place, but was usually laughed  _at_ rather than  _with_.

"Wait, why?" the idiot had sat up in his chair in horror.

_Because you weren't listening_ , Ludwig thought with a distant shake of his head and went back to copying things from the board.

He was aware of someone else who wasn't listening. Glancing across the room, he saw Feli doodling in his Maths book with his usual airy behaviour. His friend would likely need a copy of his notes after class, as per usual. He always wondered whether he was being more or less helpful to Feli by giving him the answers when he needed them. However, there had been no critical complaints, so he could only assume his friend was able to learn from reading and copying down things.

"The answers are two and zero point five."

Ludwig glanced at his other friend, Kiku. There was a friend who didn't need being given the answers and sometimes even gave him the answers if he was in desperate need. Kiku was the opposite of Feli; he was diligent and hardworking, and that was shown in his general attitude towards school and learning. If there was ever anyone Ludwig could turn to academically, it was Kiku. The three of them were so spaced out across the classroom that communication was frustrating.

Ludwig wrote a quick note.  _Alfred: 0. Kiku: 1_. He passed that along and watched as Kiku received the subtle note.

Note passing was the communication device of old soldiers in the military, leaders of the world in the old days, but also students of the modern day. It was efficient, quiet, and could be kept easily secret from a teacher's watching eye. Phones were just too obvious. You were always getting caught if you were sending quick texts throughout your lesson.

He received a note back and opened it.  _He should really pay attention. This year really counts._

Ludwig glanced towards Feli and then wrote:  _Yes, but Feli's in the same boat_.

He passed the note on and then continued writing in his book, until he got another little note from Kiku.  _Feli has me to help him if he gets stuck. Yao wouldn't do that for Alfred_. 

He shrugged to himself and then class ended. At least Feli's complacency could be explained. However, he needed to realise sooner or later that Kiku wouldn't be aiding him during the exams. He packed his bags and watched the stream of students head towards the door.

"What are we doing this break?" Kiku asked, approaching, with his bag pulled over both shoulders.

"I'm kinda hungry," Feli complained as he slid past the desks to get to them. "Can we go get something to eat from the common room?"

"Fine by me," Ludwig replied. "I don't have anywhere I need to be."

The three of them headed downstairs from the Maths room into the main school. Each year group had a common room allocated to them. Year Seven had their own, Years Eight and Nine shared one, as did Years Ten and Eleven, and then Years Twelve and Thirteen also shared a common room. However, the top two years had their own kitchen. It didn't have an oven, but it had a microwave, which meant you could bring things in. It also had a toaster, which happened to be very popular. Biscuits and fruit were generally applied to each common room.

Upon arriving, Ludwig instantly smelt the wonderful aroma of waffles. Drawn to the succulent scent, he wandered in the direction and entered the Year Thirteen kitchen. There, he found Emma toasting some packet waffles.

He wandered closer. "Waffles? You brought waffles to school?"

She turned to him and offered one of her sly smiles. "I can't help but find all the biscuits bland! I made these the other day, so before you say they're supermarket, they're actually not!"

"That's insane," Feli drooled from her other side. "But I kinda like the smell of them!"

"You can have one," she shrugged. "I brought loads with me. Share one between the three of you."

"That is very kind of you," Kiku replied.

"I brought some chocolate sauce to go with them!" she chuckled. "I can't  _stand_ a mediocre waffle! It has to be mine to be good!"

With calm contentment, Ludwig hung around the kitchen with the other three and shared a waffle with Kiku and Feli. After that, they left for their next class.

Unforunately for Ludwig, it was Art. He always found he was hopeless at every type of Art, be it abstract or detailed. On the other hand, Feli was amazing and Kiku was very good at drawing cartoons.

When they arrived, they dumped their bags into one corner of the room. It was compulsory to leave your bag to one side of the room, to prevent anyone from tripping over them. He carried his pencil case and seated himself where he usually sat; at the back in between Kiku and Feli. He wasn't an Art enthusiast, so he hated when they had large projects that needed doing when he wanted to focus on other subjects.

Their teacher was usually five to ten minutes late, so Ludwig had some time to talk with Kiku and Feli before the lesson began.

"I wonder what we'll be doing today?" he asked.

"I'm fairly sure last week our teacher said something along the lines of looking closely at what we're drawing," Kiku shrugged.

Feli sat on the table and clunked his feet on his chair. "That could mean still life or copying a photograph."

"I hate still life," Ludwig sighed. "I'm really not into all this art stuff."

"I've been doing art for as long as I can remember," Feli breathed. "My grandpa taught me everything I know and all I've done is develop onwards from what he began."

"I like drawing, but sometimes I'm really not in the mood to do so," Kiku added. "I think it's one of those days where I'm not in such a mood."

The door swung open and Alfred swaggered in, dropping his bag in the corner of the room. Ludwig watched in contempt as the American's bag landed on his and wondered if he should interrupt his arrogance by asking him to move it. Deciding to avoid unnecessary conflict, Ludwig contented himself to hearing about how Kiku was currently working on several art strips of his own characters.

The door flew open some five minutes later and their teacher hurried in, hair a mess from running and face red. Mrs Denver was an eccentric woman. Ludwig thought she was downright weird and could be deprecating when it came to those who sucked at Art class. She was scatter-brained, which conflicted with his pragmatic personality. He watched her dump her books on her desk and whip up several pens.

"OK, class, I'll be putting you into pairs today," she said excitedly. "I actually ran her because today, we'll be drawing each other in pairs. We're going to be looking at facial structure and body position in order to come up with something at the end. Your new books haven't arrived yet, but we should have them in for next week."

"Are we going to have a model come in?" Alfred asked obnoxiously, in Ludwig's opinion.

Mrs Denver, who liked Alfred for his enthusiasm if not his talent, laughed at that comment. "You'll be disappointed to know that we won't be doing any of that. However, I do have  _other_ things in mind."

She flicked through her register and then nodded in appreciation.

"OK, Yao, you can work with Kiku," she said.

"Great, put the Asians together," Yao muttered quietly from the other side of the room.

"Oh, no," Kiku ducked his head towards Ludwig and Feli. "Yao's terrible at Art. Be prepared to see some very distorted images of me."

Ludwig raised a hand to his mouth and nose to muffle any laughter. He hoped he would work with Feli, but he knew that was probably unlikely out of everyone in the room.

"Alfred and Ivan," Mrs Denver continued. "Francis and Arthur. Ludwig and Feliciano."

The list continued, but Ludwig was just glad to have himself out of the way and stopped listening after that. He was also glad to be with a good artist who would probably draw him correctly. It would be Feli who would be disappointed with the quality of his portrait.

"Today, I want you to draw each other's faces," Mrs Denver said. "I want you to learn about facial proportion as well as how the eyes and nose and lips are shaped. It's also an opportunity to bond, both physically  _and_ spiritually, because you'll be looking very closely at one another. Now, go sit in your pairs."

It was Yao who came over to Kiku due to a lack of desk space where he had previously sat. He dropped in the seat beside Ludwig, whilst Feli moved across so they could look at one another."

"Hey, aru," Yao said awkwardly. "Just to let you know, I'm not the best at Art."

"I'm more of a manga drawer," Kiku shrugged.

Ludwig recalled his earlier comment about Yao's art and suppressed more laughter. He looked at Feli to see his partner staring at him. He felt a little uncomfortable with the way Feli was scrutinising him, but he knew it was for the purpose of the lesson.

"Feli, if you keep squinting your eyes when trying to examine me, I'm going to end up drawing you wrong," Ludwig frowned. "Is your eyesight bad?"

"No, I'm just concentrating," Feli then tried to not squint, but ended up hollowly staring at him and his eyebrows furrowed instead. However, Ludwig decided it would be more amusing if he was pulling that face when he immortalised his portrait.

He put pencil to paper and kept glancing up at Feli. Every now and then, he glanced at Yao's work as well, but tried to be subtle about it, so he wouldn't get suspicious about them.

It wasn't that Yao was disliked amongst them. There was, however, slight tension between their group and his. History between him and Kiku had also not been extremely positive. Apparently, according to Kiku, he had caused great offence to Yao at the end of Year Four, and the two hadn't spoken quite the same ever since. It was Francis and Arthur that Ludwig wasn't fond of. Whilst Arthur was annoying, it was a distant annoying. He, Francis and Arthur had once been good friends in Year One. However, a huge argument between the three of them somehow led to him being blamed for everything. A year later, he may have brought it up again and things had been irreparable by then.

He started with Feli's eyes, that haunted stare, and then those raised eyebrows. He could see the left eye was a little lower down, however, he couldn't be bothered to rub out the whole eye, so kept going, and just made sure that both eyebrows were on the same level. He wasn't entirely sure how to draw eyebrows, so they ended up being as thick as Arthur's. When he tried to thin them down, they only smudged across the page. Deciding he wasn't doing the drawing any justice, he stopped and let the right eyebrow be considerably thicker.

Feli's nose was easy. Or not. Ludwig frowned as his drawing began to take an even more lopsided appearance. Grimacing, he finished off the nose as quickly as he could. It was looking less and less like Feli. The fact that he didn't know how to effectively implement depth into his drawings didn't help, either. Feli's face began to take a flat quality, but when he tried to add shading beneath his nose to make it stand out, it looked like Feli had a somewhat questionable moustache.

"Time's up," Mrs Denver said. "I want you to show your partner your drawings."

Embarrassed, Ludwig pushed his incomplete Feli drawing towards his friend. They traded pictures. When he looked at the drawing of him, he was rather impressed and a little guilty that he couldn't draw that well. He could see the similarities between himself and the drawing, and whilst it was incomplete, he was sure Feli would've added more to it once it was finished.

"What the hell, dude?" Alfred sputtered from across the classroom. "Why did you  _only_ draw my glasses?"

"I didn't know how to start," Ivan shrugged, looking defensive.

"May I see?" Mrs Denver asked and Alfred held up the picture for the whole class to see. A pair of glasses stood out on the page and, whilst a lot of thought had gone into them, they were still just glasses. "I quite like this. Ivan's focused on a particular aspect of you that stands out to him, and he's really put a lot of thought into it. Very interesting, very abstract."

'Very interesting, very abstract' was Mrs Denver's catchphrase that really bugged Ludwig. She decided that, for the rest of the lesson, they'd all draw a bowl of fruit. Ludwig hated still life. Ludwig hated Art.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Alfred Jones** : America  
>  **Ludwig Beilschmidt** : Germany  
>  **Kiku Honda** : Japan  
>  **Feliciano Vargas** : North Italy
> 
> **Emma Maes** : Belgium


	3. Chapter 3

**Ivan Braginsky**

* * *

The exercise seemed simple enough. Draw the person in front of you in sufficient enough detail to at least claim it was them. Ivan was no Michelangelo, but he could draw a few basic things. He hoped Alfred wouldn't get offended from anything he drew.

He studied Alfred for a bit, trying to get an image of him in his head. The other boy was drawing on his sheet of paper. Alfred suddenly rose his head and met Ivan's gaze.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm just..." Ivan wasn't sure what to say.  _Staring at you to imprint your image in my brain? Photocopying your very atoms to this paper? Studying you to ensure my drawing of you isn't a pore out of place?_ "I'm just thinking of how to start."

"Right," Alfred glanced at his paper once more. Ivan found it worrying how little he was referencing from the real deal.

He tapped the pencil to the paper and glanced up again. Alfred was now in a completely different position, his head tilted to the other side. Nodding slowly to himself, Ivan looked back down at his paper, but then frowned, genuinely unsure as to how to begin. He glanced up and saw Alfred now had his head bent over the paper, his face completely hidden from view. He tried lowering his head to see at least one of Alfred's features.

Alfred looked at him again. "Dude,  _what_ are you doing?"

Ivan just shrugged. "Trying to think of the starting point."

"How about my  _face_?" Alfred replied moodily and then continued drawing.

Ivan pursed his lips and put his pencil to the paper. Instead of drawing Alfred, he found himself doodling stars and lines and squiggles. He looked up to Alfred sneering at his paper.

"What?" Ivan asked coolly.

"That's not me," Alfred hissed in a low whisper and then glances as Mrs Denver approached casually.

"What's this?" she asked.

"I'm getting my creative juices flowing," Ivan lied.

She peered at his page and then inhaled deeply. "I see what you mean. I didn't realise you were a contemplative artist, Ivan. Very interesting, very abstract. I'll give you another sheet for when you're ready to move on to your portrait drawing."

He nodded as she slid another piece of paper beside him. Once she was gone, he shot a smug look in Alfred's direction before continuing to doodle on his page. He wondered if he could get away with this for the whole drawing session, but then decided to apply some effort.

He swapped both pieces of paper around, then looked firmly at Alfred, who now had a hand on his forehead, obscuring most of his face, apart from his glasses.

That was the one thing that remained consistent about his face. His glasses. Ivan knew exactly where to start in that moment, so started a rough sketch of Alfred's glasses. He gave them a shape, then he started shading them. Once he was done with that, he felt a certain satisfaction that he'd managed to accomplish drawing some part of Alfred whilst he was practically dancing in his seat. He'd rather had have Francis as a partner, since the other student was sitting almost stone still and had been for the entire lesson.

He added the finishing touches to his drawing of Alfred's glasses and was just about to start his eyes when Mrs Denver walked to the front of the classroom.

"Time's up," she said. "I want you to show your partner your drawings."

Casually, he slid his drawing to Alfred and received his own.

"What the hell, dude?" Alfred scowled. "Why did you  _only_ draw my glasses?"

Anger rose within Ivan. "I didn't know how to start."

"May I see?" Mrs Denver asked as she approached, strangely interested in his artwork today.

Much to Ivan's dismay, Alfred held his drawing up for the whole class to see. He lowered his head slightly, trying to ignore the glances people sent him for drawing the glasses.

"I quite like this," Mrs Denver was saying. "Ivan's focused on a particular aspect of you that stands out to him and he's really put a lot of thought into it. Very interesting, very abstract."

Ivan wasn't sure if he should feel offended or particularly smug that she was consistently calling him "abstract". He assessed Alfred's drawing of him as Mrs Denver walked away.

"Why do I look like you?" his brows furrowed.

Alfred leant over the desk. "You don't look  _anything_ like me.  _What_ are you talking about?"

"Oh, wait, that's probably just the American flag in the background and the fact that I've got a speech bubble chanting 'USA' over and over..." Ivan scowled.

"America's the best," Alfred replied.

"You're way too patriotic," Arthur glanced at them both.

Mrs Denver decided the rest of the lesson would be spent drawing a fruit bowl.

"Why don't you put glasses on them, Ivan?" Alfred whispered. "You're good at glasses."

"What's your problem?" Ivan shot him an exasperated stare. "She liked the artwork that was inspired by you..."

That seemed to satisfy Alfred for now. However, they had to struggle through the rest of the lesson drawing a boring bowl of fruit. Ivan considered adding glasses, but then thought the audacity of it would erase his earlier credit and thus refrained from doing so.

Once class was over, Ivan made sure he was first out of the class. He hated Art, because it was boring, and he had no love for it. He also decided that he would hate it even more, since he would have to work with Alfred for the next term.

"You should have seen that prick's face when we swapped our pictures," Yao complained to Francis as they walked along. "He went from that usual, soulless look to one of contempt and pity, aru. The little shit really annoyed me this time. And you know what's worse, aru? He's  _good_ at drawing, so I can't scowl at his work and give him daggers for drawing him shitly, aru."

"Yao, 'shitly' isn't a word," Arthur commended as Francis nodded in appreciation of the story.

"I can speak as shitly as I like, aru," Yao rolled his eyes in response to that.

Ivan sometimes felt he was the awkward one within the group. Whilst he sometimes spoke with Francis, there was no particular bond between them and it seemed that the French student found him a little odd or intimidating. Yao was OK, and probably the one he go on well most with. Arthur was more irritating, with his annoying habit of grammatically correcting everybody as well as his superiority complex that bugged Ivan.

Then there was Alfred. How he was even friends with Alfred, Ivan sometimes wondered. They had so many differences that they had fallen out so many times throughout the years. His laugh grated on him, and there were times when he wanted to push Alfred down the stairs and call it an accident. When they had first met, the two of them had despised one another, and whilst there were times when he could stand being in Alfred's presence, it didn't quite compare to the rest of the time when he would rather walk away from the lot of them.

Ivan had first come into World Academy thinking he would rise in power and popularity above all. That hadn't happened. As a matter of fact, during his younger years, he had attempted to hang out with Tolys* and Eduard and, although that had lasted from the beginning of Year Nine to the end of Year Ten**, they seemed to always have those glances between one another that implied he was just... left out. Year Eleven came and he was somehow lumped into Alfred's gang. In truth, Ivan had no one else to hang out with and had been waiting for his last day of school when he would never see any of them again and where he could leap into the real world and hit the ground running.

OK, perhaps that was an exaggeration. He was just a little offended at how Alfred had criticised his drawing, when his was actually poorly drawn. He actually didn't mind hanging out with the others and he would possibly keep in contact with all of them.

His older sister had strictly told him to be nicer to people, anyway...

They were on their way to their next class, Home Economics, which he absolutely adored, when they saw a large crowd hanging around what looked like a poster. Instantly, Alfred's attention was drawn, and whilst Ivan wanted to get to one of his favourite classes as quickly as he could, he didn't want to leave any of the others. If there was one thing he hated, then it was being alone, no matter where he went.

Alfred seemed to want to wait for the crowd to disperse. Once he did, he closed in on the poster and looked at it very carefully.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed. "A talent show! It's at the end of this term. I should really go for it. I bet I could win with my fantastic humour and total hero's voice."

"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur scowled. "They're looking for  _talent_ , not  _torture_."

"Don't you do magic tricks, Arthur?" Francis glanced at him. "Yo could go for that and you might win."

"Well, maybe, but I don't take my magic so lightly to enter competitions calling it a 'talent'," Arthur folded his arms as he considered the poster. "It's an  _art_ , not a talent."

"I'll think about it," Alfred tapped the poster. "And speaking of art, why the hell did you just draw my glasses, dude?"

"I don't see why you can't just move on?" Ivan frowned. "You wear glasses, so why does it offend you so much that I should draw glasses?"

"Well, because... I like to think my glasses don't define who I am?" Alfred replied. "Hey, I'm not saying it was bad, I'm just wondering."

Ivan sighed. "Honestly? You kept moving and your glasses were the only consistent thing."

He suddenly snickered.

"What?" Ivan glanced at him.

"I'm not easily offended," Alfred laughed. "If you'd told me to stop moving so much, I would've checked myself. Dude, you gotta ramp up your confidence."

Ivan smiled despite himself and then shrugged. He didn't even care when Alfred clapped a hand to his shoulder and grinned at him.

"We'll be working together in class for the next term or so, anyway," he said. "So, I'll bear in mind to not move so much."

"OK," Ivan shrugged, liking the amount of control Alfred was giving him in their Art lessons.

"We have Home Ec, now," Alfred winced and glanced at Arthur. "Hopefully, Mrs Tembry will have learnt her lesson and won't let you cook."

"What's wrong with my cooking, you wanker?" Arthur glared at him. "I'll have you know that I'm probably the best at cooking out of all of us."

"Absolutely not," Francis protested. "I'll have you know that myself and Yao actually are part of a restaurant club membership outside of school. Also, Ivan's always in the kitchen at home. You should consider the membership."

"It's actually really fun," Yao explained. "It's all these little recipes they teach you on a Saturday afternoon. You get to keep the instructions."

Ivan shrugged. "My father's a little frosty. He doesn't like me interacting with people much."

He knew the words sounded odd as soon as he'd said them, but fortunately, they reached their next classroom and no one delved into the subject. They left their bags outside the room and walked to their allocated tables. Mrs Tembry hated when things went out of place, and therefore despised people moving their tables. She kept a desk plan.

Ivan was lucky enough to share a table space with Arthur. Roderich and Elizabeta were nice enough, but they didn't really talk to him much. He glanced across the room and saw Francis giving him the thumbs up for good luck. Perhaps Ivan didn't hate these guys as much as he said, but sometimes they annoyed him past the point of frustration.

He cheerfully tied his apron around his waist and wondered whether he should talk to his father about joining this restaurant club of Yao and Francis'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia  
>  **Alfred Jones** : America  
>  **Yao Wang** : China  
>  **Francis Bonnefoy** : France  
>  **Arthur Kirkland** : England
> 
>  **Tolys Laurinaitis** : Lithuania  
>  **Eduard von Bock** : Estonia  
>  **Roderich Edelstein** : Austria  
>  **Elizabeta Hédeváry** : Hungary
> 
> *Tolys isn't the name I've always used for Lithuania, even though it is listed on his page. I used to use Toris, which was the first and primary name listed. However, I've now been using Tolys because HetaFacts, who is both on YouTube and Tumblr, pointed out that Tolys is a more common name than Toris, with the latter barely appearing at all in Lithuanian name records. You should check out HetaFacts' channel, by the way. She does some really cool and interesting factual content about the Hetalia universe, with loads of interesting theories.
> 
> **In the original Fic, I think I had my timeline all over the place. Ivan was originally meant to have arrived at World Academy only in Year Ten in the original plans, so it didn't make sense to me that he appeared in Year Nine. However, thinking about it, Year Nine makes more sense, given that his older sister, Ukraine, would be in Year Twelve at that time, a much more appropriate year (in the UK) to transfer schools. That's why he now arrives in Year Nine.


	4. Chapter 4

**Arthur Kirkland**

* * *

Arthur had always had a passion for cooking. Ever since he was a little boy, he had built up on his talents as a chef in order to craft the most delectable foods ever. He liked things that were so undeniably British and really credited himself for being able to accomplish making such meals. Although his parents and older brothers had attempted to prevent him going into the kitchen and, if he did go into the kitchen, his little brother, Peter, wasn't allowed in, for reasons Arthur really didn't want to disclose.

He was always one who looked forward to cooking a good meal. Luckily, he shared a table with Ivan, so he had someone to amiably chat with whilst he cooked. He found the process of making a meal a sociable one.

"What might we be making today?" he asked, standing beside Ivan, who was assessing the recipe.

Ivan glanced at him. "Cake. Lemon drizzle with lemon buttercream icing."

"That sounds fancy," Arthur commented.

"Not really," Ivan said. "Possible in the time we have. Nothing elaborate."

Arthur nodded with a stiff jaw. That was the only thing he found annoying about Ivan. When it came to things he happened to be interested in, he apparently knew everything there was to it. It was the same when they were in textiles, because Ivan happened to like knitting.

Arthur remembered the first time the Russian student had acted this way. They had been in Year Twelve, so just last year, when he, Arthur, had been telling Leon* about his embroidery classes that he was excelling in. Ivan had raised his head and suddenly jumped in on the conversation, talking about threading styles and techniques. Arthur vaguely remembered remarking in a snarky manner that his grandma shared a knitting class with him. That had ended the conversation rather violently. He recalled Ivan turning away in his seat, shaking his head and muttered "cool, cool, cool" in an offended manner.

Arthur slid the recipe closer to himself and then held it in his hands. "I suppose you're right. It does look simple. I bet I could make it blindfolded and with one hand!"

"Why would you do that?" Ivan gave him an odd look.

"I-it's a joke," he replied pointedly. "Can't you take a joke?"

"Better than your grandma, since I'm such good friends and know her so well, and all," he answered just as Mrs Tembry walked in.

Arthur chose to completely flat out ignore that comment. He was surprised Ivan had held the grudge for so long, let alone remembered the conversation. He had hoped it was one of those things you thought about every now and then and desperately prayed the other person didn't remember it. However, it seemed that was not the case.

"Alfred Jones, get your apron on," Mrs Tembry ordered, her apron already on. "What are you all waiting for? We have a recipe to follow. I hope you've all read it because I expect you to start baking right now."

Arthur and Ivan seemed to be the only ones who had bothered to read the recipe, because they only needed to give it a glance before collecting ingredients. After the grandma comment, Arthur felt strangely competitive and wanted to beat Ivan when it came to cooking.

He kept pacing himself to be at the same level with Ivan. He would mix the ingredients when Ivan was mixing them, he would blend them when Ivan did, fold them when Ivan did. In other words, Arthur Kirkland was doing everything at the same time Ivan did. He watched the other boy so much that he didn't notice when a big of eggshell went into his cake mixture, or that he didn't properly mix everything. He glowered as Ivan halved his cake mix into his already lined tins. Arthur slopped his mixture in unevenly, and split some on the floor in the process.

Ivan put his first cake half in the over and Arthur spun round too fast. He knocked Ivan as they passed one another. Ivan slipped on the cake mixture Arthur had spilt and stumbled past, accidentally pushing Arthur as he did so. Arthur's cake tin went flying out of his hands and landed on the over. As he went down, Arthur's elbow hit the oven's side. He slid away from the open oven door, swiftly closed it and grabbed hold of the table to help himself stand. His fingers closed around an edge which he pulled and the other of his cake fell down to splat on his head. Roderich jumped back when a bit of cake mixture landed on his shoe and tried wiping it on the table leg in disdain.

"Oh, for Pete's sake!" Arthur growled and pulled himself to his feet.

"Oh my God, Arthur, get away from the oven!" Elizabeta panicked.

Arthur turned to see his cake mixture sizzling stickily across the oven's hobs. Suddenly, a flame erupted from the cake mixture and started spreading.

"How did you set fire to cake mix?" Francis bellowed with laughter from across the class.

"Shut up," Arthur glared at him, just as the fire alarm sounded and the sprinkler's erupted.

Everyone was doused with a stream of water. Mrs Tembry forced her class to march the walk of shame whilst she removed all the cakes to prevent any further fires. They all stood in a line, shame faced.

"You're all Year Thirteen," Mrs Tembry scolded them quietly before they dispersed amongst their forms. "I should expect more sensible behaviour from the oldest students in this school. For threatening our entire foundation, I want Mr Kirkland and Mr Braginsky to stay late after school."

"But Mrs Tembry, my father will be really angry to have me home any later!" Ivan protested.

She pointed and glowered at him. "You must learn from your mistakes. No exceptions."

Arthur bit his lip and fell into step alongside Ivan. "Sorry, there, mate."

Ivan glared at him and walked faster, creating rapid distance between the two of them. Arthur found himself forced in the company of France.

"Looks like you can't cook after all," he sniggered. "Burning cake mix! Only you could do that!"

"I said would you shut up?" Arthur let out an agitated sigh. "I feel really bad now. Ivan has to stay late because of me and, from the sounds of it, his dad sounds very strict."

Francis' expression suddenly became pitying. "I wouldn't worry too much, Arthur. Ivan will forgive you."

"He seemed really pissed off," Arthur pressed his lips together and looked at Ivan disappearing into the crowd. "Not only did I grandly fuck up his favourite lesson, but I also got him in trouble."

"I do want to know how you set fire to cake mix, though," Francis sneaked a glance at him.

"I don't know," Arthur groaned. "I wasn't paying full attention to my own cake. I was more focused on his because he'd been telling me how easy the recipe seemed to follow and I wanted to see how he did and whether he found it easy. I think he found it easy."

"Did  _you_ find it easy?" Francis continued to prompt.

"Are you still trying to suggest I can't bloody cook?" Arthur snapped. "Because I can cook, just not in a  _timed_ class."

Francis nodded mysteriously, but didn't press further into the conversation. They lined themselves up in their forms, and waited for their form room** teacher to arrive. Arthur noticed he was receiving glances from his fellow students from the Home Ec class. That was possibly because they were cold from the water that had fallen once the fire had begun.

"I think it's safe to say we won't be continuing our cooking class," Francis said.

Arthur glared at him. "What point are you trying to make?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I suppose that, not only did you ruin Ivan's favoured lesson, but you also got cake mix over Roderich's shoes."

There was a disdainful grunt from behind them and they turned to see both Roderich and Ivan glowering at Arthur.

"These shoes were my finest for school," Roderich complained.

"Sorry," Arthur muttered and retreated further down the line to stand in between Heracles Karpusi and Tolys Laurinaitis.

"That was totally amazing what you did back there, dude!" Alfred whispered loudly, leaning out of line. "I don't even know how you managed it, but now we don't have to suffer at the hands of that miserable Mrs Tembry!"

"I could've burnt the bloody school down," Arthur looked at him in horror. "How would  _that_ have been amazing?"

"Alfred, in the line and stop talking," Mrs Tembry snapped as she hovered dangerously close.

Alfred clamped his mouth shut and turned his head away.

"Why are we out here?" Heracles turned to whisper.

Arthur sometimes found it uncomfortable how Heracles honestly didn't give a damn about personal space, or what was acceptable to say to one another.

"Um, I may have set fire to my Home Ec work..." Arthur frowned.

"Wow, really?" Tolys sounded mildly astonished from behind. "Was it a big fire?"

"No, of course not," Arthur replied. "We'll still have time for more of our current lesson."

"Fine by me if we don't," Heracles shrugged. "I've never been exactly enthusiastic by work."

"It just gives me a break to text around and see if anyone else is breaking the silence rule," Feliks snickered from behind, tapping away at his phone.

"You really shouldn't do that," Tolys fretted. "You could get seen."

"Stop talking at the back, Tolys," Mrs Tembry snapped.

Feliks looked at him with an easy-going smile, regardless of the angry teacher's comment. "No, I won't. I'm too short to be even noticed properly. Besides, there was this article on the Daily Fail*** about a woman who ate so many cakes she had to go to hospital. I  _have_ to read about it!"

"Don't come running to me if Mrs Tembry takes your phone," Tolys frowned and turned back to look ahead.

Arthur wondered how he always seems stuck with the strangest people. It was OK to admit Feliks was a kind of cool kid, but that was when you put aside the fact that he was that one guy who came into school with his nails painted, proclaiming it was a "fashion statement" in Year Twelve. Arthur recalled Ivan saying he wouldn't go anywhere near him until the nail colour was out of sight; however, Arthur was fairly sure Ivan was just being a little prejudiced. The nail painting had become a signature thing for Feliks.

"Oh, did you hear about Mr Vurkel?" Feliks continued.

Arthur turned slightly. "I was wondering where he was. I heard he was having family difficulties?"

Mr Vurkel was Arthur's favourite English teacher. He had always been the top of the class and had always been eager to tell Mr Vurkel all his ideas in class. He had been one of those truly inspirational teachers, but had just not arrived at the beginning of the year, and there had been little explanation to accompany that.

"He got fired, apparently for having a student relationship," Feliks tapped away at his phone.

"Do you know who?" Tolys asked, suddenly interested.

"Not yet," Feliks looked cunning. "But I heard the student was  _male_. I bet it's Basch; he's always so quiet and detached from the rest of us that I think he could easily hide the secret of having something going on with a teacher."

"Does he even play for that team?" Arthur frowned.

"I don't know," Feliks shrugged. "But I'm going to find out."

"I'd like to hear what you find out," Tolys said.

"Mr Laurinaitis, what did you not understand about not talking?" Mrs Tembry started approaching and Feliks had the brains to shove his phone in his blazer. "If you talk any more, I'll have to keep you in after school."

"I'm really sorry, Mrs Tembry," Tolys lowered his eyes. "I'll try not speaking anymore."

"Well, good," she huffed and walked off.

"Apart from in your lessons," Feliks sneered at her back and then shrugged.

"You're going to get me in trouble  _again_ ," Tolys whispered fiercely, before folding his arms and strictly staring straight ahead.

It was in that moment that the clouds decided to weep upon the throng of students crowded outside. Multiple glares were directed towards Arthur as, by now, everyone knew he was responsible for the fire in the first place and, therefore, the reason they were outside.

"My hair is going to be ruined," Feliks complained.

"I'll be seeing you after school, Mr Laurinaitis!" Mrs Tembry screeched from the front of the line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Arthur Kirkland** : England  
>  **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia  
>  **Francis Bonnefoy** : France  
>  **Alfred Jones** : America
> 
> **Lei Siu/Leon Chun** : Hong Kong  
>  **Elizabeta Hédeváry** : Hungary  
>  **Roderich Edelstein** : Austria  
>  **Heracles Karpusi** : Greece  
>  **Tolys Laurinaitis** : Lithuania  
>  **Feliks Lukasiewics** : Poland  
>  **Basch Zwingli** : Switzerland
> 
> *In this Fic, Hong Kong is called 'Leon', his Anglo name, even though he also uses Lei Siu. A lot of students from China and Hong Kong used different names at my school if their actual names were longer than four letters. I'm not sure why, probably for pronunciation. Since APH Hong Kong has English influence, I figured I would do this with him.
> 
> **I believe a form room teacher is called a 'homeroom' teacher in the USA and other countries.
> 
> ***A nickname for a newspaper me and my friends read online. It had all these articles that were a load of crap, and filled with spelling mistakes, but we really did enjoy it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Kiku Honda**

* * *

Kiku stood underneath the rain. He raised his head and looked skywards. He hated it when fire alarms went off, because it meant you had to line up in your forms. That meant being packed in a tight line amongst other students, like sardines, when all he wanted was to create a little bubble around himself and hide away from other students.

He had first arrived at this school in Year Three, which was where he met and befriended Yao. The two of them had been inseparable, and there was a thin line between friendship and brotherly love between them. However, there was a time in Year Four where they had had a large fight. It was an off the scale type of large and left the two of them off speaking terms. It was at the end of that year that Kiku's father decided he wanted his only son to attend a strict, boarding school until he was 'mature'. Kiku left World Academy without even saying goodbye to Yao. Distance and separation were the only factors that left the two in the same position as strangers would be, alienated from their previous friendship.

Kiku spent the next six years under the brutal and somewhat militant boarding school. He was isolated there and found it difficult to make friends with many of the other students. It was a boy's school and he was the smallest in his class. Excessive bullying led him to a life of seclusion, for which he even became edgy about sharing a room with his roommate. Personal space became something that Kiku learnt to value more than people. It was also a school that remained with the firm belief of corporal punishment. Just as his father had desired, Kiku's school beat him into shape.

At the summer of Year Nine, his father looked upon his son and decided he was a changed man, with the overly formal manner and polite, subdued nature. He decided his son was ready for the established World Academy, and was unafraid to return his son to where he had been taken from.

Kiku, at this stage, no longer cared where he had his education, but was more focused on having an education at all. His arrival in Year Ten seemed new to all the students until, on a chance meeting with Yao during his second week, they realised he was the same Kiku Honda who had been abruptly withdrawn from school six years ago.

Kiku had been a changed man, though. He had regarded Yao with a cold formality. There had been no mention of the six years he had disappeared into and he didn't inquire into Yao's life story, either. As a matter of fact, his lack of an emotional display was worrisome to many, but was also the new face of Kiku Honda. He was the "new" student who met Ludwig Beilschmidt and Feliciano Vargas in Year Ten. The three of them became friends very quickly and, ever since then, Kiku had kept away from most others.

However, he still had issues about personal space, which was why he felt slightly claustrophobic being wedged in between Elizabeta Hédeváry and Alfred Jones. It was slightly irritating to hear Alfred talking to Arthur about burning the school down in a cool way; however, he expected no less maturity from the other boy, and it was for that reason that he let it all slide.

Kiku was all one for not saying much, unless it was answering questions in class. That was why, when he had had the opportunity to peacefully bake a cake, Arthur had managed to ruin the entire thing. He didn't want to blame the other boy for being a hopeless chef, but he was sure he must've done something different to have burned the cake mixture. Kiku thought that, sometimes, Arthur could be just as careless as Alfred.

Whilst he didn't mind standing in the rain, he was aware that his father wouldn't like him returning home drenched. Therefore, he was displeased at having to bring this inconvenience back home. He sneaked a glance over his shoulder and caught Feli's eye. The Italian boy smiled and waved, but he only offered a smile in return, because he didn't want to get into trouble.

Their form tutor, Mr Saunders, started calling along the register.

"Kiku Honda," he said as he passed.

"Present," Kiku answered and watched him walk on by.

Mr Saunders was a middle aged man who didn't give a damn for the students in his class. During Form Time and PSHCE, he allowed his students to do whatever they liked. He would get them to memorise one fact so he could at least tell his superiors that they'd learnt something from him. Kiku was sure he cared even less when he was teaching them Science, considering towards the end of term, he would tell them all just to make a poster of something they'd learnt in the year.

He was gone and Kiku continued to reflect on the rain falling on his head. It was only a light shower, but it could build up. He raised his face once more up to the rain and continued to let the drops slide serenely down his face.

* * *

Mrs Tembry was not amused. Instead, she was extremely angry and, as a result, had them hand-wash all their dishes and stay in for lunch to finish their cakes. Kiku believed the only person particularly enthralled by that was Ivan Braginsky.

He wandered out of that class with the other two. Ludwig had a sour expression on his face, but Feli seemed cheerful as always, pin wheeling his arms around.

"That sucked," Ludwig complained. "I had at least wanted a full lunch today."

"I know what you mean," Kiku agreed. "I actually have manga club today, so it's just you two."

"What are you doing for lunch?" Feli frowned. "You can't just skip!"

"I don't intend to skip," Kiku assured them. "I'll run in and smuggle a sandwich from there. Afterwards, I'll head up to the club and eat it there. I run it this year, so I feel as if I should be on time to the first session."

The three of them entered lunch together as usual. Today, it seemed Miss Lore was on lunch duty. Miss Lore taught music and was a hard woman to impress. She only liked students who had a grade in any form of musical art. She was always involved with everything musical and there was no doubt that she had something to do with the recent Talent Show that Kiku had seen on posters around school. She was a tall, spidery woman who, as far as Kiku was concerned, had been through five engagements, three marriages and three divorces. She was bitter to all students apart from Roderich Edelstein, who was the only one in their entire year who had a remote interest towards music. It was for that reason that he won so many music awards. Whilst he was extremely talented, he had the evil Miss Lore right behind his back, pushing him towards all sorts of competitions.

A rumour started by Feliks Lukasiewicz in Year Eleven went around claiming that Miss Lore's previous marriages were the students who were the top of their year in the musical field, and that Roderich was next, considering how much he hung out with her. The idea of the rumour was that they were forced to marry her and had to stay with her until someone better at music than them arrived. Feliks added that, because Roderich was the most talented person in music he'd ever met, that there would be no one who could outdo him and he'd be married to her forever. Roderich only discovered the rumour at the end of Year Twelve when Feli accidentally told him about it. Although he outraged and didn't seem to believe it, Year Thirteen saw Roderich Edelstein being a bit more independent in his musical endeavours. Miss Lore had been even bitterer as a result.

Kiku knew it would be hard to get anything past her watchful eye, so he intended to be the stealthiest he could be for this mission. He would never let his lunch get in the way of his manga club, since it was the only thing he could unwind in.

Kiku separated from Ludwig and Feli in the lunch queue waiting for hot food and instead turned his way towards the cold food. He browsed along the sandwiches, then picked a simple cheese one. As he slipped through the crowd, he dropped the sandwich silently into his pocket. 

A thin, bony hand touched his shoulder. Kiku turned his head and saw the cold eyes of Miss Lore boring into his. There had been times in the past when other students in his boarding school had described him as the kid with "soulless eyes". Miss Lore put a whole new standard to that name.

"Are you taking food out of the lunch hall?" she asked ominously.

"No, Miss Lore," Kiku lied.

"Then why do you have food in your pocket?" she asked cruelly.

Kiku arrogantly shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about, Miss Lore. I have no food on my person."

"It's in your pocket," she said.

Kiku felt around in all of his pockets, as well as skimming his hands carefully over the sandwich, being careful not to rustle the packaging. He gave her a nonchalant shrug in response, knowing this was probably a wrong move, but determined to sacrifice his own image for the sake of the manga club members.

"After school detention," Miss Lore shrieked. "Never would I expect a student to speak to me like that!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, choosing to play his cards carefully. "However, I will arrive at the detention room after school and alert them of my presence."

She regarded him cautiously. For a moment, Kiku thought that, like moments in the past, his extremely rational stance would convince her otherwise and she would 'realise' she was overreacting. Unfortunately, it didn't turn out that way. She scrutinised him carefully, before a satisfied expression cross her face.

"Fine," she said and stalked off.

Relieved to be out of her presence, Kiku hurried out of the lunch hall. He was deeply distressed inside that he had earned a detention. His father would not be happy to hear about that, and he would be even less impressed to hear it was over a sandwich for his manga class. Kiku knew his mother would be more understanding, but that wouldn't change the way his father acted.

The manga club was actually held in an ICT room. It was upstairs near the Maths room that had begun Kiku's day. He pushed open the door wearily and wandered into the room. The greatest disappointment would be if no one turned up. However, he was early and had time to finish off his sandwich.

He sat in a corner of the room, hidden from view of the door, and swiftly tucked into the sandwich. You weren't supposed to eat in the ICT rooms, but Kiku really didn't mind at this stage. He'd eaten in this room so many times before and nothing had happened to any of the computers.

Someone entered the room. He hid his sandwich and then saw it was Yong Soo Im from the year below. He held the sandwich to his mouth once more and watched the younger boy throw himself down in a chair.

"What are we doing today?" he asked nonchalantly.

"I want to do figures," Kiku answered, finishing off his sandwich and throwing the wrapper in the bin. "So, that's what we'll be doing. You, being one of the older students who has attended more, will be doing detailed positions opposed to basic ones. Today is all about proportion."

Yong Soo huffed. "I hate it how  _you_ were picked to be the next leader of the manga club."

"No one else in my year draws manga," Kiku sighed. "Of course I'd be picked by the previous leader of the manga club."

"Does that mean I can ask you to pick me?" Yong Soo snickered.

"You can ask, but that doesn't mean you can get," Kiku said. "You see this pen I use for my drawings?"

He held up a beautiful ink pen that seemed old and Yong Soo's eyes shone at the sight of it.

"It was given to me by the previous leader of this manga club," Kiku explained. "At the end of this academic year, I'll be handing this to the next year of the manga club. Judging by the strained acquaintance between us, I can't promise it will be you."

Yong Soo could be irritating at times and it was obviously because he admired Yao like a brother. Kiku, who had been rude to Yao in Year Four, was not Im's favourite person. However, Kiku liked how Yong Soo was genuinely interested in manga, since he continued to attend, despite his dislike for Kiku.

Other younger years began to arrive and Kiku contented himself to teaching the session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Kiku Honda** : Japan  
>  **Alfred Jones** : America  
>  **Arthur Kirkland** : England  
>  **Feliciano Vargas** : North Italy  
>  **Ludwig Beilschmidt** : Germany  
>  **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia
> 
> **Elizabeta Hédeváry** : Hungary  
>  **Feliks Lukasiewicz** : Poland  
>  **Roderich Edelstein** : Austria  
>  **Yong Soo Im** : South Korea


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading through this, I found that I'd spelt dessert as desert. It was a sad time.

**Yao Wang**

* * *

The lunch queue was always a perilous place to be. It ranged from students in Year Thirteen all the way down to Year Seven. Yao remembered first coming into secondary school at World Academy, since Years Six and below ate at a different place. The immense crowds that drifted slowly towards the food reminded Yao a bit of a traffic jam. It was slow and, if you were prone to fainting from a lack of food, it was best to sprint to lunch straight after your lesson before lunch. Whilst there was a vague system, students who had a club could get priority tickets by attending clubs. It was a system that dodged students attending once just to get into lunch earlier.

The tickets were plastic and could be drawn on with board pens. The leader of the club a student attended would write the student's name on the card each week at the end of the club, if it was held during the second half of the lunch break. Next week, the student would use the ticket to get into early lunch. The student handed the ticket to the teacher on duty and the student would be let through to enjoy their lunch. A new ticket was given to each student every week. Since names could be rubbed off, the tickets could constantly circulate around the whole school; if more were needed, then more could be made.

If you were the average plebian student, then you had to face what a very little Yao Wang in Year Seven called "the Crush". If you were short, you would be enveloped by the sheer volumes of students that crowded towards the lunch hall and were only allowed through in groups of around ten. If you did no clubs, then you would have to suffer having to deal with jocks pushing each other around, girls bickering about other girls they hated, nerds tapping on their latest gadgets and discussing when they'd be meeting up for their next session of Dungeons and Dragons, that one kid who is  _always_ stepping on other people's feet and ends up apologise to everyone to the point where you were driven crazy. There would also be the younger students who hung around at your waist talking about irrelevant things that you really didn't care about but, because their voices were so loud and high-pitched, you couldn't help but hear that a girl in Year Eight had had her first "date" with a kid in her year, or the year above, and a boy in Year Ten boasting about how he got to third base with some girl in his year that considered the most popular. Yao had even been there, that Year Ten boy, except he had lied, and Elizabeta had  _not_ appreciated that in the slightest, no matter how much it impressed the older boys, as well as Alfred and the others.

"Dude, it's hamburgers for lunch today!" Alfred cheered as they shuffled that little bit closer to food salvation.

"I swear all you think about and breathe is hamburgers," Arthur rolled his eyes. "Why don't they ever have a good old roast more often?"

"They don't do Russian food, ever," Ivan sighed. "Sometimes a bit of cuisine from the homeland really can make you feel better."

"I quite like how they implemented stir fry last year," Yao shrugged. "But it always seems to be brought out on rare occasions. You know what food they always have? Italian food."

"That's because pasta and pizza are easy to make," Francis said.

"They have lasagne, spaghetti bolognaise, plain pasta with garlic and olive tomato sauce, pizza slices on some days and even that bread they have that  _does_ taste nice, I'll admit, but is still Italian," Yao shrugged.

"You got something against Italians, dude?" Alfred looked at him, amazed.

"No, I just wish they'd be a bit more experimental," Yao sighed. "In our Saturday food club, I and Francis are always trying out new and exciting recipes."

"Oui!" Francis beamed. "There's just  _so much_ we make that I think I'll be the most popular of my roommates when in university. I'd have to compete if I and Yao happened to be in the same university, the same accommodation, let alone the same flat."*

Yao had a feeling he wouldn't be in the same university as Francis. Whilst his French friend had a flair towards the creative and cultural side of life and would probably move into a career that involved people, he had the ambition and drive that was to push him towards a business career. Yao strongly believed that, once he was in university, he would see very little of any of the other four. However, that didn't mean Yao didn't want to keep in contact. He genuinely did. University was, at most, five years of his life. He had so many more afterwards to rekindle his friendships.

"You're very distant, Yao," Alfred commented, walking backwards in the queue. "What's on your mind?"

"I'm just thinking about university," Yao admitted.

"Dude, c'mon!" Alfred grinned. "It's  _ages_ until uni! We have so much time to just chill out before that. I mean, I'm thinking of taking a gap year!"

"Really?" Francis looked enthralled. "Same with me. I was thinking about travelling the world and becoming experienced in varying cultures. Perhaps we can travel together?"

"Sounds awesome, dude!" Alfred beamed.

"I think I'll go straight to university," Yao said. "I want to get my studies over and done with."

"I have that feeling, too," Arthur said. "Then at least I can move on from the educational period of my life and just get on with the bloody real one."

"What about you, Ivan?" Yao asked. "What are you thinking of doing?"

Ivan glanced at them all, surprised, and then nervously laughed. "I honestly don't know. I think I'll have decided by the end of the year, depending on what my results are."

That was an acceptable answer in the eyes of all of them. Even though they had already applied for their respective universities, not all of them had received unconditional offers. Decisions didn't have to be finalised until the results of their final exams were released in August.** Ivan had always been a little closed off from them, Yao recalled, but his involvement with their group had only been a little more recent compared to everyone else. Yao himself had been an extension back in Year Five. He was aware that Alfred had bonded with Arthur and Francis in Year Two, but Arthur and Francis had known one another since Reception. Ivan had only started hanging out with them in Year Eleven. Yao thought he was relatively nice enough, but some part of him always felt there was something hidden beneath Ivan's smile.

They finally got into lunch. Yao miserably had a hamburger slapped on his plate, because the other options were always cold food or jacket potato and he liked neither. He couldn't be bothered to queue for cheese and other stuff people liked to put in their burgers, so instead cut the queue into the dessert section. It was rare that there was a fantastic dessert at their school. When it came to sugar, World Academy decided that they should promote healthier, fruitier options, even if they were serving foods such as burgers for the main meal. However, today was chocolate cake. It wasn't exactly gourmet or freshly baked, it was some easy mix bulk cake that was served, but it was probably Yao's favourite dessert they served at school.

He was the first out, Arthur not far behind, because neither of them had wanted to stuff their burgers full to bursting. He slapped his tray down on a table and settled himself down, Arthur sitting beside him.

"Hey, Arthur!"

Yao and Arthur both turned their heads to see the latter's younger brother, Peter, approaching his tray in his hands.

"What do you want, Peter?" Arthur scowled. "You can't sit with us."

"I just wanted to say 'hi' to you and your friend," Peter frowned, as his own friend hovered a little bit behind him with an awkward expression on his face.

"Well, you've said it, now bye," Arthur frowned.

"I don't think we've met," Peter said to Yao. "I'm Peter. I'm Arthur's little brother, in Year Nine."

"Um, hi?" Yao frowned.

"Oh, salut, Peter," Francis said as he passed by the younger boys and seated himself on the other side of Arthur. "How is your first week back?"

Peter sighed. "I really hate all the work. It's so much harder in comparison to Year Eight."

"Year Nine is nothing compared to Year Thirteen," Arthur scowled.

Ivan settled beside Yao, as Alfred dumped his tray next to Francis.

"Hey there, kid!" Alfred grinned and ruffled Peter's hair. "How you been?"

"I've been great!" Peter's eyes shone with excitement at the sight of Alfred. "My summer was absolutely amazing, so it's really a shame that it's all over."

"I couldn't agree with you more," Alfred said and patter him on the shoulder, before sitting down beside Francis.

"Oh, hello there, Raivis," Ivan said to Peter's friend.

"O-oh, h-hello, there, Ivan," he stammered, looking surprised, and then lowered his eyes to his tray.

"We'll be on our way, then," Peter announced and brightly hurried off, his friend trailing awkwardly after him.

"How do you know Peter's friend?" Arthur asked Ivan.

"Oh, our fathers know one another very well," Ivan explained. "He's been round my house several times."

"What's his name again? Raivis?" Arthur pondered. "I've always found him a bit... well, you know. Nervy. Obviously, Peter doesn't notice. You don't when you're younger. But the kid just seems  _constantly_ anxious. Do you think you'd know why?"

Ivan shrugged, looking down at his food. "If there's a reason, it's passed over my head."

Arthur nodded, content with the answer.

"We should really do something with our school lives now that we're in our final year," Alfred announced, watching Peter find his own table. "Just seeing him always makes me think back to when  _we_ were in Year Nine."

Yao looked at him. "Were you thinking of anything impressive?"

"I think we should do something for the Talent Show," Alfred decided. "I know what you guys are gonna say..."

"Go on, then," Arthur scowled.

"You'll all say 'it's not my thing'."

"No, wanker," Arthur continued eating. "You're on your own."

Alfred blew out a breath and then appealed elsewhere. "Come on, Francis. You're super charismatic and confident! You should totally join me in this!"

"It depends what you have in mind," Francis looked sceptical. "I may be good at expressing my true emotions as well as being able to convey a good character towards those around me, but if you expect me to cart across the stage on a unicycle juggling hot places, you can think again. I would not disgrace myself so."

"I was thinking more along the lines of forming a band," Alfred grinned around the table.

"Definitely not, then," Francis cringed. "I would never put myself in such an awkward situation. People would have so many expectations and I'm not exactly one who can play an instrument or sing."

"We all know I'm not joining this," Arthur insisted.

"You two," Alfred looked at Yao and Ivan. "You two will have to form the band with me."

"I don't really want to," Ivan frowned.

Yao cursed in his head. If he said 'no', he'd be the one to completely condemn Alfred to a world of embarrassment, but if he said 'yes', he'd have to play his role in Alfred's pathetic two man band.

"Aru," he grimaced. "I..."

"That's a 'yes'!" Alfred declared. "I knew I could always count on you, Yao."

"Didn't Miss Ronan want to see you about a lunchtime detention planner?" Arthur asked.

Alfred's face fell. "Oh my God, dude, you're right! I gotta get there right away."

Yao watched in awed horror as Alfred managed to consume his hamburger in two bites before grabbing his tray and racing away from the table.

"That's something you can't get out of now," Arthur said pityingly.

"I wish I could help you," Francis frowned. "However, once you say you'll do something for him, he'll never forget. You've practically signed your soul away."

"I know," Yao ran his hands through his hair. "Now we're going to be one of those two person bands that nobody really knows..."

"I'm sure it won't be that bad," Ivan smiled. "You two might be so bad that you won't even get through the auditions, da?"

Yao glowered at him. "I will find a way to make you join and share my pain."

Ivan frowned. "What? Why me?"

"Because you could've saved me," Yao moaned. "You could've gone 'sure, yeah, whatever', and then I wouldn't have had to do it!"

He grabbed his tray and stood.

"Where are you going?" Francis asked.

Yao pointed at Ivan whilst juggling his tray. "To make him join this band, even if it's the last thing I do before my social reputation is completely shattered."

"I don't know whether I should feel flattered that you want me in the band, or terrified," Ivan panicked.

"Terrified, Ivan," Yao offered him a sinister smile as he backed away. "Terrified."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Yao Wang** : China  
>  **Alfred Jones** : America  
>  **Arthur Kirkland** : England  
>  **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia  
>  **Francis Bonnefoy** : France
> 
> **Elizabeta Hédeváry** : Hungary  
>  **Peter Kirkland** : Sealand  
>  **Raivis Galante** : Latvia
> 
> *I don't know if anyone knows, but in the UK, we don't have roommates at university. We have flatmates. It's basically the same as living in a block of flats, except with a shared kitchen area. Some university flats have shared bathrooms, too, but not always. You might have around 5-8 people living in one flat, with 4-8 floors per block. During my first year of university, I lived in a Flat 67, Room 4. There were about 80 flats in my accommodation, but there were plenty of other halls other than mine.
> 
> When I first wrote this Fic, I hadn't been to university yet, so there was still plenty I didn't know back then. In this one, I'll be doing slight fixes and repairs, just to make it more authentic.
> 
> **UK academic school terms last from September-early July. At university, term can sometimes start in late September, but also October, and finishes in early June.


	7. Chapter 7

**Francis Bonnefoy**

* * *

Francis left the lunch hall with just Arthur and Ivan. It was weird to suddenly just have the three of them. He hoped Yao wasn't too upset about having to do the band thing with Alfred. He was sure everything would be fine.

"I really don't want to join their band," Ivan was worrying. "I'm genuinely afraid of what Yao's going to do."

"He can't make you do anything," Arthur replied. "It can only be through your own choice that you have anything to do with Alfred's miserable band. He'll probably call it the 'Bumpkin Burgers' or something awful like that and the music will be Southern country crap. Is that enough to scare it from your mind?"

"It only makes me worry more," Ivan panicked. "The worse it is, the more Yao will be determined to recruit me. I can't really see myself being in a band. It's not my thing."

"What if he comes up with a really cool idea and song and you can be on the bands that wear leather and that older women kind of like?" Francis suggested. "Any woman likes a man who walks around in a leather jacket, cool clunky shoes and sunglasses."

"You mean a total and utter douchebag," Arthur interjected.

"What if I become a douchebag?" Ivan looked sick.

"This is really not something to get this worked up about, Ivan," Francis paused and stepped aside in the corridor. The other two followed his lead and they stood beside a radiator, discussing. "Yao can't make you do anything."

"He's very determined," Ivan swallowed. "And at the moment, he's angry."

"That shouldn't matter," Arthur shrugged. "If you don't want to be in a band, you don't have to be-"

"You're making a band, Vanya?" a girl with long blonde hair leant against the radiator, wedging herself in between Francis and Ivan.

"No," Ivan stepped backwards and trod on Arthur's foot.

The girl gave Francis a withering stare and he chose to hang at a distance. She was a pretty girl. Francis had seen her around and believed she was in the year below.

However, he had  _not_ known that Ivan knew her. He also disliked how grandly Ivan was messing up a potential relationship with her, since it was  _possible_ that she was interested in him, or just very good friends...

"I think you would look amazing in a band," the girl continued enthusiastically. "Especially if you were the lead singer."

"I don't think so," Ivan replied carefully.

"Who are you?" she suddenly glowered at Francis.

"Me?" he looked surprised.

"This is my friend, Francis Bonnefoy," Ivan said with a stiff jaw.

"Which way do you swing?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

"Pardon?" Francis blinked.

"Natalya!" Ivan brought a palm to his forehead. "You can't just-"

"I'm sorry, Vanya," she frowned, linking arms with him. "I just want to keep you safe, that's all."

"I don't need protection," Ivan said moodily, shrugging her off. "Come, you two."

He started striding away in a manner most unlike Ivan. Francis hastily followed after with Arthur. He thought that, had there been an explosion, Ivan would've looked like one of those badass main characters that just casually walk away from it. All he needed were sunglasses.

"See you later, Vanya," Natalya called after him.

"Yeah," he answered as they turned the corner.

"Who was that?" Francis sidled up to him. "She's in the year below. She's  _very pretty_ , Ivan. Why are you being so hard to get?"

"I have to admit," Arthur frowned. "She was rather attractive, although I can't say I was preying on her like Francis was... If she's interested in you, Ivan, perhaps you could consider her?"

Ivan stopped dead in his tracks and looked at them in horror. Francis wondered why he was so opposed to the girl so much. He had never expected Ivan to be the one to come out of the closest.

"She's my  _sister_ and she's  _not_ interested in me, nor  _I_ to her," Ivan stared. "She just admires me a lot. It's annoying."

Francis began to worry when Ivan started walking once more, even faster than before.

"You know what?" he suddenly shook his head. "I don't feel well. I have a headache. I'll see you guys some other time."

Ivan changed his direction towards the medical centre. Francis and Arthur lingered in the corridor, before Francis dared a glance towards his English friend. His thick brows were furrowed in concern.

"I suppose it's just you and me this lunch," Francis blinked. "But what just happened?"

"I'm not really sure," Arthur admitted.

"Do you reckon he's under a lot of stress at home?" Francis pondered. "It would make sense. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but he's been a little different this term compared to last year."

"Different?" Arthur glanced at him, confused.

"Yeah, he just seems  _older_ ," Francis frowned. "Something's different about him. I wouldn't say it's enough to concern me, but I wonder if something happened to Ivan over summer."

"You think so?" Arthur sighed. "If that's the case, then everything at this school is going to bollocks."

"What do you mean?" Francis started a slow stroll and Arthur matched his pace.

"Did you have about Mr Vurkel?" he asked.

Francis hadn't. "No?"

"Apparently he had a romantic relationship with a male student in our year," Arthur explained.

"Who told you that?" Francis raised an eyebrow.

"Feliks Lukaseiwicz," Arthur replied.

"I wouldn't trust a single word that comes out of that boy's mouth," Francis chuckled. "He's a major drama queen. Anything can be a good story to him, even if he makes it up."

"Wait, hear me out on this," Arthur said before Francis could continue. "Mr Vurkel gets fired and Ivan starts acting differently. I'm not suggesting anything  _solid_ , but... you know..."

"You can't be saying that, if this rumour is true, then Ivan was the student involved?" Francis pursed his lips.

"I'd never just point a finger," Arthur said. "But you've drawn my attention today and coincidences are rare."

"Ivan would never..." Francis frowned. "Or, at least, I would never had dreamt that Ivan would be involved in a student-teacher relationship scandal. Are there any pointers to suggest that Ivan's gay?"

"Baking, cooking, knitting..." Arthur begun. "Slightly fluttery, shy nature. He-"

"That's stereotyping," Francis huffed, rolling his eyes. "I meant, has he shown any inclination to lean towards men?"

"I'll say no to that," Arthur admitted. "If I'm completely honest, I believed he was homophobic for a while."

"Homophobia  _can_ be a sign sometimes," Francis tapped his chin in thought. "There are many men who are in denial for what they love and, as a result, they pretend to hate what they love. His homophobia actually acts as a  _tiny_ piece of potential evidence towards this Mr Vurkel thing you have going. However, don't believe every word Feliks says. My Vurkel may just have moved on and chose not to let anyone know. Besides, Ivan's never been openly homophobic."

"That's true," Arthur said. "I really want to know what happened, though. Mr Vurkel was my favourite teacher. I really admired and looked up to him."

"I won't go on this absolutely fruitless and potentially perilous search of yours," Francis announced. "However, I am more than happy to give you advice about this. Think about Mr Vurkel. Were you his favourite student? Did you frequently speak? Were the times when, although you wouldn't have noticed in the moment, that he seemed more interested in you than the intellect you have? Think about how Mr Vurkel acted around you, because the first thing you need to know is  _why_ he got fired. If it was a student-teacher relationship, find the student. I wouldn't advise trying to seek out Mr Vurkel, though."

Arthur nodded, as they walked down a small flight of steps into the courtyard. The weather was cold, as expected in September. It certainly wasn't the beautiful and romantic scene that Francis enjoyed in summer. It was a little bleak, a little too cold, and a little too grey. Francis spent the rest of his lunchtime walking around with Arthur, talking about nothing in particular, but reflecting on the actions of his other friends.

Francis returned to his form room with Arthur when lunch ended. Already the classroom had students inside, which included Alfred.

"Yao and Ivan not here, yet?" Francis asked as he approached.

"What?" Alfred frowned. "I thought they were with you guys."

"Oh, well, Alfred... I don't think Yao's exactly cheerful about this whole-"

The door suddenly flew open to reveal Yao standing in the doorway, interrupting Francis' sentence entirely. In his hands he held a copy of the poster, as well as what looked like a timetable. There was a triumphant gleam in his eyes as he approached and seated himself amongst the others.

"What's that you got there?" Alfred asked curiously.

"A copy of the poster for the Talent Show, aru," Yao spread it out before them. "I wanted to make sure I understood all the dates and entries that weren't allowed."

"And the other thing?" Alfred leant over, interested by what Yao was doing.

"This is a music timetable for all three of us," Yao explained and a slow grin spread across his face. "I organised times throughout the week that we could meet up with both Roderich and Miss Lore about learning instruments. If we're going to be a band, we'll need talent, aru."

"What do you mean by the 'three' of you?" Francis asked, suspicious.

Yao lowered his head slightly and smiled, a menacing expression on his usually innocent, round face. "Ivan is our third member, aru."

"What?" Arthur gawked, and everyone in the class looked at him. "Sorry..." He lowered his voice once more. "How did you manage to get him to agree to this?"

"I haven't yet," Yao chuckled to himself. "But when he hears that Miss Lore expects him to be present, he  _can't_ say no, aru. He's in this with me."

"A-and me," Alfred insisted.

"Heh, sure, aru," Yao nodded. "You're still the lead singer, got it?"

"That's what I intended," Alfred shrugged.

"Wait just a moment," Francis shook his head. "You can't just sign Ivan up to do something he doesn't want to do. It's not right. Why, at the moment he's up in the medical centre because he didn't feel well."

"That's karma for you, aru," Yao clearly didn't care as he and Alfred studied the timetable.

Just then, the door opened and Ivan walked in, followed by Mr Saunders. He seated himself beside Arthur. No one said a word about being ill or the medical centre.

"Alright, we've actually got someone to come in and talk to you about relationships and other crap like that," Mr Saunders yawned. "I'll be leaving the room, for legal concerns. Fine by me. I get to drink coffee and eat biscuits in the staff room because of this."

The 'someone' actually turned out to be the school councillor, Mrs Kelly. She was a tiny woman with blonde, curly hair and huge glasses that almost took up her entire face. Her eyes always looked extremely wide and staring because of the spectacles, but Francis had heard she was a very nice woman, especially when a lot of his year were going through a lot of stress moving between their Year Eleven and Twelve years.

"Today, I'll be talking to you about relationships," she explained as Mr Saunders fled from the room. "This concerns both heterosexual and homosexual partners, confidence around others, the ability to embrace celibacy and asexuality, as well as sexual relations with other individuals."

There were plenty of glances sent around the class.

"As you'll soon be leaving school, you need to consider that you'll have relationships with men, women, or perhaps  _both_. Therefore, I would first like to ask you, out of your own confidence, to raise your hand if you've already had sexual relations with another person. It's absolutely  _not_ compulsory to raise your hand, as this is very personal information, but if you feel confident to do so, then raise it now."

Francis raised his hand and noticed Heracles did the same. The two nodded to one another smugly, as the class assessed who had thrown their innocence away.

"Excellent," Mrs Kelly smiled. "It's important to know that you can always talk about sex to one another. If Francis and Heracles are comfortable to speak with people about sexual relations, then any student can ask them about it. Having confidence around one another is an important thing that will help you with your general social relationships once you've progressed from education."

Francis smiled to himself. He wondered what consequence being arrogant about his sex life would bring. He glanced around and saw the other four looking at him in disbelief. Francis smirked at them and then turned his attention to Mrs Kelly once more as she continued telling them about sexual relationships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Francis Bonnefoy** : France  
>  **Arthur Kirkland** : England  
>  **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia  
>  **Alfred Jones** : America
> 
>  **Natalya Braginskaya** : Belarus  
>  **Heracles Karpusi** : Greece


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this, I realised just how messed up my school's Sex Ed was. The only two sexualities I was aware of before university were heterosexuality and homosexuality. My Sex Ed largely consisted of "Don't have sex unless you want STIs". I went to an all girl's school, and they hated it when we linked arms in the corridors when walking around. It was really weird and bizarre, and when one girl did a class presentation about bisexuality, her teacher told her to stop because it was "offensive and indecent". My school wasn't Catholic, but they were very stuck up, and I think there were a lot of older staff members that weren't OK with anything other than heterosexuality.
> 
> For these reasons, I have edited a lot of Francis' original explanation. Don't worry- I never said that being gay, bi, pan and others was bad. I just didn't know it existed! When I was 16, I saw a headcanon that France was 'pan'. I never understood what that meant, and read it that he loved anyone! I essentially thought it was bisexuality (which I now know is not true). Despite not knowing what it meant, I liked the idea of France being pan. Now that I understand pansexuality, I really love the headcanon that France is pan.
> 
> Back when I originally wrote this, I barely understood anything about sexualities and that was largely what France's explanation was. It just felt weird that someone who was well aware of other relationships beyond heterosexual ones would only talk about heterosexual relationships, so I've opened it up to better suit France. It's pretty upsetting that schools are still very far from teaching more about sexuality, since a lot of my friends have discovered they were bisexual having left school and reaching university. There were even a couple girls who came out as bi during our schooling years, but since the rest of us had had such limited education on the matter, we were mostly confused to hear that. As I say, it's sad that schools still don't educate young people about real life feelings.

**Feliciano Vargas**

* * *

Feli had been avidly listening through Mrs Kelly's talk and it was their final lesson of the day, English, that he chose to plonk himself down in the seat beside Francis before Arthur could.

"Hey, that's my seat!" Arthur glowered.

"Hang on a sec, I gotta talk to Francis for a bit," Feli chuckled and turned his attention away from the other boy. "I gotta ask. What's it like?"

"I assume you mean sex?" Francis wore a smug and all-knowing expression on his face. "I'll also make the assumption that you've never had sex before?"

"No, I'm a bit of a virgin," Feli laughed nervously. "Although I've talked to girls before! I just want to know..."

"Well," Francis propped his elbow on the table and looked in wonder. "Passion, not to be confused with  _love_ , plays an important role. You can't just throw yourself into anyone's bed. There must be an attraction. It also depends on the person you're with."

Francis seemed to take that as consolation to continue. "A woman, or a man, must be cared for before you do anything. There must be a certain amount of intimacy before either of you jump straight to the expected pleasures that life can offer. A woman likes a man who considers her. She may not want to jump straight into things and, actually, that is the case for man women."

"I bet you've only slept with one bird," Arthur muttered scornfully and seated himself on the desk behind. He did, however, keep listening.

"The first time you ever become sexually involved with someone, you must understand their needs," Francis explained. "Some people want a gentle, loving partner, others want someone with a rough fire that threatens to never extinguish. You first sexual encounter will tell you whether your partner prefers submission or dominance, and it will also reveal what you yourself prefer. Any other encounters with the same partner will tell you whether they genuinely like a gentle man in bed, or if they want something a little more  _invigorating_."

"Invigorating..." Feli repeated, nodding as he absorbed every word Francis uttered.

Francis chuckled. "You don't want to be too rough. You don't want to hurt-"

"Please, just end this conversation," Arthur looked embarrassed. "What if people hear you?"

"Do you not like hearing about  _sex_ , Arthur?" Francis smirked and turned in his chair to speak with his friend. "Does the idea of  _sex_ frighten you?"

"I-I wouldn't know," Arthur stammered, his face turning red. "I've never experienced it before."

"You should've seen Kiku during that whole talk!" Feli joined them. "He hates physical contact of any kind, so when she was talking about sexual relations between men and women, and same sex partners, he was just fidgeting around and looking extremely uncomfortable."

"Really?" Francis looked surprised.

Feli nodded. "Whereas my big brother Lovino told me that he'd done it with all the girls in his class by the time Year Twelve ended."

"Is that why you're so interested..." Francis laughed. "Are you sure you're brother wasn't winding you up?"

"Oh, no, he was being sincere," Feli smiled. "Or, at least, I  _think_ he was?"

"So, you're  _not_ one hundred per cent sure?" Arthur rolled his eyes. "I bet he hasn't. I bet he's pulling your leg and you've just believed him, like that."

Feli thought for a moment and then shrugged, letting Arthur's words bounce off of him and his brother's integrity.

He stood just as someone walked into the classroom. Feli, frozen to the spot, listened to the  _clack clack_ of incredibly high heels on the ground. Those heels must've been at least four inches; they were a chic pair of stilettos, entirely black, and belonged to someone with thin, smooth looking long legs. The woman, for those legs and stilettos belonged most definitely to a woman, was wearing a black pencil skirt that only slightly highlighted the curve of her hips. A pale pink shirt was worn and on it, delicate white flowers with small tendrils of green as their vines intertwined amongst one another. She had gone to the effort to carefully tuck her shirt into her pencil skirt and it wasn't creased or ruffled or bunched around her waist in anyway- it was smooth and straight. The top two buttons weren't quite done up and a silvery necklace gleamed at her throat and drew attention to places Feli liked very much indeed. She wore a black blazer over the shirt, ironed to perfection and not hanging off her body, but instead fitting itself to her curved, womanly shape. She had lovely blonde hair, straightened and clean, that went down just past her shoulders. Her lips were a slightly dark pink, not too red, and not too pink- a rose colour. She had a nice colour to her cheeks; enough to give her a glowing, healthy appearances. Her eyes were a bright, clear blue and her eyebrows dark and plucked until they weren't a millimetre out of place. She looked like an angel that had fallen from the sky. Her skin was perfect. She was a  _woman_ , not a  _girl_ , and Feli reckoned she couldn't have been any older than her mid-twenties. He would guess she was just out of university.

Carefully, she placed her folders on her table and then glanced pristinely around the class. It made sense that everyone was so quiet, in Feli's opinion, because this woman had just taken on a male dominated class. This woman also happened to be the most beautiful woman Feli had ever seen.

"Is something wrong?" she asked him.

"No, Ma'am," he sighed dreamily. "Absolutely nothing."

Her lips curved upwards ever so slightly and for such a brief moment that Feli was sure he imagined her smile.

"I have Mr Vurkel's seating plan here with me, " she explained sweetly. "But I think I want to put you in register order for now, just so that I can get to know your names. I know you probably won't like me doing this, but it's just for this term, I promise!"

_Cute and sexy_ , Feli thought, as she assessed the register.

"OK, so at these two desks just in front of my computer, we'll have Sadik Adnan and Ludwig Beilschmidt," she pointed.

Feli watched in jealousy as Ludwig took his bag and moved to the front, putting his bag on the desk in front of hers. He was in the perfect spot for those that wanted to be seen by their teachers. Sadik was hidden behind the computer, whereas Ludwig was not.

"Eduard von Bock and Lukas Bondevik here," she tapped the next two tables. "Francis Bonnefoy and Ivan Braginsky near the door, here."

She paused in thought and then walked across the class once more, to the tables behind Sadik and Ludwig.

"Um... Lee..."

"It's Lei Siu, Miss, but people call me Leon," Feli watched as Leon stood from his previous seat.

"Ah, OK, I'll make a note of that," she pulled out a pink pen and seemed to jot that down on her register, whilst Leon received daggers from the rest of the class. "Leon, you'll sit next to... Roderich Edelstein."

Leon nodded and walked to his given seat, whilst everyone continued to watch him like he'd committed a great sin.

_Jealousy really does change a man_ , Feli thought, as he too gave Leon a harsh stare.

"Elizabeta Héde... Hédeváry and Kiku Honda behind Eduard and Lukas," she continued. "Then we'll have Alfred Jones and Matthew Jones behind Francis and Ivan. Oh, wait! You two are twins- that's so cute! But I'll have to put you apart as an ice breaker thing, so, swap Matthew with... Arthur Kirkland!"

Feli watched Arthur's face darken slightly before he stood and resigned himself to sitting next to the loudest person in their class.

"You two better not played tricks on me!" the new teacher laughed. "OK, behind Leon, Matthew Jones and Heracles Karpusi. Beside them, Matthias Kohler and Tolys Laurinaitis. Then Feliks Lukasiewicz and Carlos Machado. Oh, but Carlos isn't here, so we'll put you next to Emma Maes instead. Berwald Oxenstierna and Tino Vainamoinen will be behind Matthew and Heracles. Beside them, we'll have Feliciano Vargas and Yao Wang."

Feli turned his head and caught Yao's gaze. Awkwardly, he swiftly turned his head away. Not only would he be in close connection with Yao in Art, what with the other boy working with Kiku, but now he himself had to sit beside him in English. Feli desperately hoped Yao only had something against Kiku, but could only guess that, since they were sitting near Arthur, Yao's friend, strength in numbers would consume him. He met Kiku's gaze and raised both eyebrows. His friend remained as expressionless as possible, and looked down at the table.

"And finally, we have Basch Zwingli," her expression softened to sympathy. "Poor you; you're on your own, until Carlos comes back! Maybe when I have marking to do during class I can seat myself with you, for now!"

She turned to the board, completely oblivious to the enraged stares that were cast towards Basch, alone at the back of the class.

"I shall now introduce myself as Miss Morbrey," she smiled. "I'll be your teacher for the rest of this year."

Once seating was arranged, they lapsed straight into teaching. Feli, for once, found himself listening to every word she said, as well as taking down notes. Sitting beside Yao wasn't too bad, either. They just didn't talk. Arthur contributed greatly to the class, much to the agitation of everyone else.

When Ludwig turned, he met Feli's gaze.

Feli mouthed:  _I would definitely do her_.

Ludwig nodded and turned around once more. He settled himself in his chair and glanced to the side to see Yao staring at him.

"What, you wouldn't if given the opportunity?" Feli looked at him, amazed.

Yao's eyes slid to the front of the class and then he shrugged with an appreciative nod. "Fair point."

Their English class became listening for the sake and hopes of being noticed as a good student. Her top three seemed to be Leon, Basch and Arthur, all in that order, although Feli believed Arthur would rise his way to the top considering he was answering enough questions and coming up with enough ideas to actually  _be_ their teacher.

When class ended, Miss Morbrey breezed out of the classroom. Once she was gone, everyone started conversing. The boys wanted to talk about Miss Morbrey because they liked her, and the girls wanted to talk about Miss Morbrey because they didn't, and that they thought the boys would have an unfair advantage due to their sucking up.

Feli met with Ludwig and Kiku outside the classroom.

"Now  _that_ made my day," Feli sighed. "I'm  _glad_ Mr Vurkel's gone. I really like Miss Morbrey."

"She's also a good teacher," Kiku added.

"Let's remember that she is our teacher," Ludwig said. "She's out of our league."

"I bet Lovino's already met and slept with her," Feli sighed as Kiku rifled through his locker in preparation for the next day. "She must be around the same age as him."

"Oh, come off it," Ludwig rolled his eyes. "What are the chances of her having come to World Academy? We would have remembered her."

"Hmm, good point..." Feli shrugged.

"I'll see you guys later," Kiku frowned. "I have a detention from that sandwich earlier."

"Oh, that sucks," Ludwig replied. "We'll see you, then."

They separated from Kiku's locker. Kiku headed towards the dreaded detention room, whereas Feli and Ludwig went the opposite way, their direction pointed towards the school car park.

They passed through the gates amongst the general flow of other students on their way home. The car park was straight ahead, but a path to the left was the place students who took the bus or some other method of public transport went. Both Feli and Ludwig turned left.

Ludwig stopped before the bus and glanced back. Some years back, when they were younger, it would be Ludwig and his older brother, Gilbert, getting onto the bus, whereas he and his older brother, Lovino, would move on and head towards the train station that wasn't too far. Now, it was just he and Ludwig, and had been for about three years, now.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Ludwig replied.

Feli nodded and started the long walk down the small hill to the train station. Usually, Kiku would be taking the train with him, but that was not the case today. He was alone.

Feli frowned as soon as he was out of sight and at the train station. He passed his travel card through the system and started the lonely return home.

* * *

**Alfred Jones**

* * *

"He wouldn't stop telling me about it," Matthew was telling Alfred as they awaited their mum's car.

"What was that, sorry?" he glanced at his brother, having barely been listening.

"Nothing," Matthew glanced away. "Mum's here."

Alfred was already nodding and crossing the road. He casually slid into the front seat.

"How was your day, you two?" she asked them.

"It was fine," Matthew replied.

Alfred reflected on his day, and then smiled to himself. "Mine was great."

"That's good to hear," she looked at her sons lovingly in the rear view mirror before pulling away and driving off.

* * *

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**

* * *

Ludwig entered the house using his keys and walked into the kitchen to see Gilbert on the computer.

"Where's Dad?" he asked.

"At work," his older brother replied, not even looking away from the screen.

Ludwig nodded, turned and left to do his homework, as well as feel jealous that Gilbert didn't start university until October.

* * *

**Ivan Braginsky**

* * *

"No excuse," his father roared down the phone. "What am I? A taxi service, Ivan? I don't think so. You can walk home."

"Yes, father," he replied and frowned as his father hung up the phone before he'd barely finished speaking.

He held the phone at arm's length, sitting in a toilet cubicle, and then ran his hands through his hair. Ivan let out a long, pained sigh.

* * *

**Arthur Kirkland**

* * *

"I'm sorry, Peter, but you'll just have to go alone," Arthur explained to his little brother in the car park. "I would've asked Alfred to give you a lift, but his car's broken and I don't really want to be asking favours from his mum."

"What if I get lost?" Peter looked sad. "I usually just follow you, so I don't pay my fullest attentions to my surroundings."

"You'll be fine," Arthur patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "As you walk, you'll see places that you'll realise are more familiar than you thought."

"OK," the young boy said forlornly. "I'll see you later."

Arthur nodded and watched his brother turn and start walking away. He knew he'd be fine. He was sure of it.

* * *

**Kiku Honda**

* * *

Kiku wandered into the detention room and saw he wasn't alone. Feliks Lukasiewicz was already there, bored on his phone. He raised his head and looked surprised to see Kiku standing in the doorway.

"This is the detention room," he said. "If you're looking for Miss Lore, she's not here at the moment."

"Nope," Kiku seated himself within talking distance of Feliks, but not next to one another, since you weren't allowed to sit next to anyone in detention. "I'm here to stay."

Feliks looked at him with a new admiration.

* * *

**Yao Wang**

* * *

As soon as Yao entered the house, he was met with his mother, who was wearing an apron and carrying a wooden spoon.

"Get your homework finished, Yao, and then come down and help me with the kitchen," she ordered.

"Sure," he nodded and hurried to his room.

He pulled out all his work, but felt suddenly hopeless as soon as he settled down to work.

_I wonder if my routine will change at university_ , he thought, and glanced outside the window at the wide expanse of world that waited for his arrival.

* * *

**Francis Bonnefoy**

* * *

Francis' chauffeur opened the door for him and he stepped out of the door and preceded to walk up the stairs leading to the entrance doors. The door was opened by Esmond for him.

"Bonjour!" he called into the house and watched as his mother leaned out of the lounge door, wearing her red silk dressing gown and looking immensely pleased to see him.

"Francis!" she beamed, rushing over and pulling him into her arms, as well as kissing both cheeks. "I've missed you so much."

"I was only at school, Mama," he said sympathetically.

"Oh," she looked dazed. "Oh, I forgot..."

Francis sighed a little and returned his mother's hug.

* * *

**Feliciano Vargas**

* * *

He stood before the front door, his heart hammering in his chest and his palms sweaty. He was always hesitant on quiet days like this, but he forced himself to open the door and enter. The house was dark as Feli pushed opened the door and stood in the doorway.

"I'm home," he announced and he was met with darkness and silence.

Feli took two steps into the room and closed the door behind him. He turned on the lights.

"I'm home!" he repeated, a little louder.

"Shut the fuck up, I heard you the first time!" his father yelled from the lounge. "Turn the bloody lights off, you piece of shit. I'm trying to sleep."

"Yes, Papa," Feli cast his eyes to the ground and switched the lights off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feliciano Vargas** : North Italy  
>  **Francis Bonnefoy** : France  
>  **Arthur Kirkland** : England  
>  **Ludwig Beilschmidt** : Germany  
>  **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia  
>  **Kiku Honda** : Japan  
>  **Alfred Jones** : America  
>  **Yao Wang** : China
> 
> **Sadik Adnan** : Turkey  
>  **Eduard von Bock** : Estonia  
>  **Lukas Bondevik** : Norway  
>  **Lei Siu/Leon Chun** : Hong Kong  
>  **Roderich Edelstein** : Austria  
>  **Elizabeta Hédeváry** : Hungary  
>  **Matthew Jones** : Canada  
>  **Heracles Karpusi** : Greece  
>  **Matthias Kohler** : Denmark  
>  **Tolys Laurinaitis** : Lithuania  
>  **Feliks Lukasiewicz** : Poland  
>  **Carlos Machado** : Cuba  
>  **Emma Maes** : Belgium  
>  **Berwald Oxenstierna** : Sweden  
>  **Tino Vainamoinen** : Finland  
>  **Basch Zwingli** : Switzerland  
>  **Gilbert Beilschmidt** : Prussia  
>  **Lovino Vargas** : South Italy


	9. Chapter 9

**Alfred Jones**

* * *

Alfred opened his eyes and squinted as the light streamed in through the window. He sat up in bed and checked the time. It read 7:45.

"Oh, crap," he leapt out of bed and threw his uniform on.

Desperately, he tried to smooth his hair down in front of the mirror, but there was always that one strand that was always standing up on edge. He gave up and raced downstairs to see his family crowded around a table laid with pancakes.

"Oh, there you are, Alfred," his dad said. "Tried calling for you but you wouldn't respond."

"Slept in," Alfred dove at the table and helped himself to several pancakes, overtaking Matthew with ease. "Matt, why didn't you wake me?"

Matthew opened a bottle of maple syrup and started pouring it on his pancakes. "I tried, but you punched me in the stomach. I may have been winded, but I'm not entirely sure. Either way, it really hurt."

Alfred watched as the syrup spread across Matthew's pancakes like a lake.

"After that, I tried playing loud music in your room, because I didn't want to risk touching you again," Matthew continued, still pouring. "However, you slept on right through it. The sheer volumes were quite amazing and, if I'd turned it up any higher, I'm pretty sure my ear drums would've burst."

Alfred raised an eyebrow as one pancake was completely enveloped in maple syrup. His brother kept pouring.

"My third attempt was my last, I can assure you," Matthew insisted as he drowned his food. "I got a cup of ice and put it down the back of your shirt. You kind of wriggled a bit, and I really thought I'd managed to wake you up, but then you just accepted your new situation and slept through that as well. Afterwards, I just kind of gave up and decided to let you wake up when you did."

Alfred's eyes bugged out as the second pancake began to float from the amount of syrup being used. He began to wonder how the plate didn't flood, when he realised his brother wasn't using a plate, but a bowl instead.

"I'm surprised you didn't set yourself an alarm," Matthew was saying. "But I suppose it makes sense, since you'd probably just sleep through it anyway. I'd suggest-"

"Um, Matt?" Alfred frowned. "Your syrup ran out..."

Matthew glanced at the empty bottle and frowned. "Oh, maple! I suppose this will have to do..."

Alfred's jaw dropped as Matthew started tucking into his bowl of maple syrup, with a side dish of pancakes. He grabbed the golden syrup and streamed on a heavy drizzle in the middle of one pancake, before spreading it and eating them one at a time.

* * *

**Kiku Honda**

* * *

Kiku was strapping his bike helmet on when his dog rushed up and leapt into the little basket in his bike. Sighing, he lifted the little thing from its carrier and set him back down on the ground.

"No, Pochi, you can't come to school with me," he smiled, getting on the bike and practicing the brakes and the bell. Both worked. "Go back inside with mother and father."

Pochi barked, but then turned and raced inside the house, where his mother closed the door after waving goodbye. Kiku turned his head away and set off on his bike, ready for the upcoming week.

* * *

**Feliciano Vargas**

* * *

Feli slung his rucksack over his shoulder and was preparing to leave for school, just as his brother ran out of the house, looking a mess.

"Oi, Feli, I needed to ask you something!" he huffed and came to a stop before his brother.

"What is it, Lovi?" Feli asked, hoping he wouldn't miss his train.

"I'm holding a party in December," Lovino explained. "I need you to organise it."

"O-organise it?" Feli blinked. "Me?"

"Yeah, I'll tell you the details when you get back," Lovino said. "Now, get to school and study like I never did, you little bastard."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Feli saluted.

He missed his train.

* * *

**Ivan Braginsky**

* * *

"Your hair's not brushed properly," Katyusha started touching his head. "Your uniform's not quite on straight. You look like a little boy, still, even though you're at the top of your year!"

"Kat, get off of me!" he pushed her hands away impatiently. "You're embarrassing me..."

His older sister laughed before her expression softened to one of endearment.

"You're a sweet little boy, Vanya," she smiled up at him. "Don't lose that."

Ivan didn't know what she meant by that, but he lifted a hand and smiled his farewells as he and Natalya headed towards the school gates. He made sure to promptly change his course from hers as soon as he could.

"I'll see you at the end of the day, Vanya!" she gave him a wave, expression deadpan as always.

"Yeah," he replied, barely glancing at her.

_You shouldn't be so rude, Ivan,_ the voice in his head scolded as he reached the door... and came face to face with Tolys.

"Tolys," he said.

"Ivan," Tolys replied, and then moved past.

_When did I become so isolated?_ he wondered, watching Tolys' retreating figure.

* * *

**Yao Wang**

* * *

Yao played a wrong chord and Roderich made a point of blocking his ears in frustration.

"That sounded terrible," Roderich complained. "How do you ever expect yourself to get good if you just can't play?"

"That's not constructive criticism, aru," Yao snapped back.

Roderich slammed a fist on the piano keys. Even though it seemed unplanned, the striking of his fist and the way the notes bellowed sounded like a cry of disdain expression through the soul of music. It was a form of art being waved right under Yao's nose and he was struggling to achieve even a pale comparison of it.

"You don't need construction," Roderich scowled. "You need complete remodelling! How do you expect to improve if you desire pretty little compliments along the way? Greatness comes with the sacrifice of your narcissism. Greatness comes with giving up your time. Greatness is  _greatness_ and cannot be learnt in one day or by not watching your hands properly."

"I'm sorry!" Yao gritted his teeth and looked back at the piano.

"How are you doing, Alfred?" Roderich asked, turning towards the other boy as he strummed lightly on the guitar. "I'm not exactly a professional on that; however, Miss Lore will be here soon and she can help you. It sounds decent en-"

A wrong note was played. Roderich brought a palm to his forehead and cried out in disgusted anguish. Alfred looked at him in pure terror.

"How can you expect to become great if you sit there pretending to be great?" he demanded, as Alfred shrank away. "Are you the lead singer and guitarist, or the lead  _failure_? At this current moment, I don't see a difference! Oh, and whilst we're on the subject of failure, Ivan failed to show his face. What's that all about?"

"Oh, crap, I completely forget to tell him I was doing this to him," Yao paused in horror.

It was true. Although he had frequently seen Ivan throughout the week, he'd wanted to announce it in a cool way. However, as time had passed, it had slipped his mind to tell Ivan, and he had soon begun to believe that Ivan already knew.

"Oh, wow, so you're third member doesn't even know he's a member?" Roderich did not look impressed. "I suppose your awful management habits are the result of this?"

"My management isn't bad, aru," Yao pursed his lips. "It's just slightly out of touch at the moment, that's all, aru."

"Out of touch is one word for it," Roderich said. "Poor is another."

The door opened and Miss Lore strode into the room, looking like Death itself, with Ivan trailing after her, a dark expression on his face which was instantly directed towards Yao as he entered the room.

"Here he is, the deserter," Miss Lore announced. "Deserting means detention, doesn't it, Mr Braginsky?"

"Yes, Miss Lore," Ivan said, as all three other students in the room fell silent at her anger. "It does."

He walked across the room and picked up the drumsticks with a sinister expression on his face. He walked up to the piano and peered over Yao's shoulder.

"What are you up to, Yao?" he asked casually and leant one of the drumsticks against the pressure point on Yao's back.

"Learning my C major scale chords, aru," he croaked, wincing as Ivan dug the end of the drumstick into his back.

"Oh, looks fun," he leant closer. "What am I doing here?"

The last part was said in a whisper.

"I signed you up for Alfred's band," Yao grimaced, as Miss Lore and Roderich spoke to Alfred about his guitar playing.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Ivan hissed and glared at him.

"I didn't want to be alone, aru," Yao pleaded. "Come on, take pity on me. I didn't want to have to suffer weeks of being alone and tormented by  _his_ stupidity, aru."

"Take pity on  _me_ ," Ivan replied. "Why didn't you tell me you'd done this?"

"I meant to, but I forgot," Yao grinned cheekily.

"Right, fine, you can live for now," Ivan sighed and lifted the dreaded drumstick from Yao's back. "Watch this."

He sat down at the drums, flipped the drumsticks and started hammering down on the cymbals and drums like a professional. Alfred's jaw dropped and even Roderich looked vaguely impressed.

"Where'd you learn to do that, dude?" Alfred beamed. "That was amazing."

Ivan smiled, absorbing the compliment like a sponge. "My sister. Kat was once part of this garage band thing when she was a little younger than us. You won't know about it, because she had to keep it quiet from our father and, when he discovered it, he got rid of it."

"That's amazing," Alfred repeated.

Yao glowered from his position and started tinkling away at random keys in order to bring attention away from Ivan. It worked.

"That sound offends me almost as much as the colours red and green together do," Roderich complained loudly. "Just stop, all of you. I'll work out a systematic method of getting you to actually have talent..."

* * *

**Arthur Kirkland**

* * *

Feliks rushed into the library where Arthur was working on his English coursework. He sat beside him and looked at him excitedly. Arthur paused and glanced at him with a frown.

"Do you need something?" he asked.

"Yes, like,  _yes_ , I do," Feliks said. "I found something on the Daily Fail that has really shocked me and I was, like,  _totally_ speechless. Here, check this out."

You weren't allowed to have phones on in the library and Feliks wasn't exactly speaking quietly. Fortunately, it was lunchtime, and Arthur was in a good mood, since his coursework was going well. Therefore, he felt more inclined to listen to what Feliks had to say.

"Go on," he whispered. "What is it?"

Feliks showed him a page on his beloved news site concerning some fashion article. There was a woman walking down the street. It didn't concern Arthur in the slightest, but what had he really expected from Feliks?

"What about it?" he asked.

"Look, in the background," Feliks swiped his fingers across the screen and enlarged the picture. "Guess who?"

Arthur squinted at the screen and then gawked. "I don't believe it!"

"I know, right?" Feliks grinned. "I was so totally shocked when I saw it, but it's undeniably him."

"That's Mr Vurkel," Arthur stated. "Where was this taken and when?"

Feliks assessed the article carefully. "This was taken in the southern side of the city*, and it was approximately taken three days ago."

"This is my chance," Arthur stood.

"You're going after Mr Vurkel?" Feliks stared.

"I have to," Arthur said.

"Pretty badass, leaving during school..." Feliks commented in awe.

"Oh, yes, you're completely right," Arthur seated himself, oblivious to Feliks' sudden disappointment. "I suppose this'll have to wait until the weekend."

* * *

**Francis Bonnefoy**

* * *

Francis stood in the doorway, watching Alfred and the other two play. He had seen the grilling of Miss Lore about Ivan turning up late and continued to bear witness to Yao's flustered playing and Alfred's lack of attention. There was something so wrong about the band that Francis had to almost feel sorry for them. The only thing they had going for them was that they had twelve weeks before the Talent Show. That was a good three months or so.

Roderich suddenly caught sight of him leaning in the doorway and waved a hand for the three developing musicians to stop, which none did.

"Stop playing when I tell you to!" he barked. "I can tell why none of you would ever be in the orchestra."

"Hey, Francis," Alfred lowered his guitar. "What are you doing here?"

Francis smiled and held up the poster of the Talent Show. "I've had something on my mind for the past few days or so and, after seeing your somewhat lacking performance today, I've decided to become your manager."

"Our... manager, aru?" Yao looked displeased.

"Precisely," Francis blew a kiss to them all. "I'll organise where you need to be, when you need to be, practice sessions and all other things that a band requires. It always takes someone outside of the music to do the maintenance, I always thing. So, what do you say?"

"Sounds good to me," Alfred shrugged.

"What?" Yao frowned. "Really?"

"Hey, it's  _Francis_ ," Alfred smiled. "He's a pretty neat guy when it comes to organisation."

Francis smiled. "It's settled, then. I will be your manager. But first, we must decide on a name for the band."

"I have something on my mind," Alfred admitted proudly.

"Go on, let's hear it," Francis said excitedly.

Alfred beamed as he pronounced: "Freedom and the Coms."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Alfred Jones** : America  
>  **Kiku Honda** : Japan  
>  **Feliciano Vargas** : North Italy  
>  **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia  
>  **Yao Wang** : China  
>  **Arthur Kirkland** : England  
>  **Francis Bonnefoy** : France
> 
> **Matthew Jones** : Canada  
>  **Lovino Vargas** : South Italy  
>  **Katyusha Braginskaya** : Ukraine  
>  **Natalya Braginskaya** : Belarus  
>  **Tolys Laurinaitis** : Lithuania  
>  **Roderich Edelstein** : Austria  
>  **Feliks Lukasiewicz** : Poland
> 
> *It was originally London, but I want to make World Academy in an obscure, liminal part of the world.


	10. Chapter 10

**Kiku Honda**

* * *

Although he would rather be drawing manga, Kiku was concerned that he still hadn't completed his Art homework. He sat in his own club, filling out the double page Mrs Denver had set them on different angles of the body. Like any profile of a manga character, Kiku had chosen to go with a headshot from three different angles: direct, profile and looking upwards. He then drew two figures, one facing three quarters, the other sideways. That was how he would construct his double page. He was fussy, though, and rather enjoyed spending a lot of time doing the same thing, ensuring each inch of his drawing was perfect.

He was sure that Yao wouldn't even have the drawing done by the end of the day. He was sure he was probably wasting his time by even hoping his partner would be able to produce a decent depiction of him in time for their next lesson.

"Excuse me, Kiku, but I'm having trouble drawing the arm in proportion to the body and legs," a younger girl asked.

Kiku raised his head from his project and set his book aside. Along the way, he grabbed a sheet of paper and sat beside the girl, holding his prized ink pen in his hand.

"What are you having difficulty with?" he asked and carefully assessed her work.

He could see that the curve at the elbow wasn't quite right. Once she had drawn the elbow, the arm length was a little too short. Kiku wondered for a moment and then picked up a pencil sitting on the desk beside her.

"May I use this?" he asked and she nodded. "Try drawing a 'skeleton' first."

"A skeleton?" she looked confused.

Kiku nodded. "I mean a frame. A frame really helps proportion your drawings. Before doing anything on the upper layers, you must first make sure the skeleton is complete."

He drew a circle which progressed towards joints and shaped. He connected the joints and the body, keeping the pencil at a trace and as light as possible. He completed the skeleton and pushed the paper towards the girl. Her eyes widened.

"Try drawing over that one and see if your proportion improves," he said. "If you like the result, you can continue using the skeleton method. I would highly recommend it."

"Thanks," she held the paper in front of her, and her friend beside her kept glancing over.

"Not a problem," Kiku stood and sat in his seat once more, assessing his Art project with a little less enthusiasm when compared to helping the girl.

There was one thing he felt he was missing. It was too quiet. He raised his head and looked for Yong Soo, only to find him having seated himself beside the girl, assessing the skeleton. Yong Soo caught him looking and stood abruptly, a scowl on his face.

"I could do something way better," he folded his arms.

"OK," Kiku shrugged. "Just as well, since you  _are_ attending a manga club."#

Yong Soo rolled his eyes and sat down. Kiku watched him start ploughing away on a sheeting of paper. He lowered his eyes to his own work once more and added an extra two strokes to the shoulder with his pencil. It wasn't so hard, especially since he related to the skeleton method in his own artwork in class, only slightly different, to make the posture more realistic and less cartoon.

The bell rang before he knew it.

"OK, I'll see you all next week," he said, handing out lunch cards to each student.

He was closing his Art book and packing his bags when he heard a nervous shuffling approaching. Kiku raised his head to see the girl from before standing awkwardly before him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, troubled.

"I just saw some of your artwork in that book," she shifted from foot to foot. "And I just wanted to say... you're really good!"

Kiku blinked and watched her swallow and turn her head away from him. He smiled and took his book from his bag once more, opening it to the page where the proportion angles were sketched.

"If you would like, I can photocopy this when I've finished and give it to you to learn from?" he offered.

Her face reddened a little. "That would very very nice."

"I'll have that done, then," he closed his book once more and fit it in his bag. "I should be able to give it to you next week. Just e-mail me a reminder and I should remember."

She nodded, as Kiku held the door open for her and the pair of them walked out in preparation for registration.

* * *

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**

* * *

He was sitting quietly in Art class, working on his project, which had progressed much beyond what he'd done last week. Even he had to admit it was a rather poor performance on his behalf that he'd barely gotten anything done. What he  _had_ accomplished was finishing his drawing of Feli, which had gone into his book as soon as he'd completed it. That was one thing Mrs Denver enjoyed about his sketchbook. Ludwig couldn't stand mess, so ensured everything was perfectly in place. Everything was uniform and, according to his Art teacher, presentation "said a lot about one's personality". If that was the case, he would assume his personality was neat, punctual, organised and disciplined, considering his book was a masterpiece of cleanliness in itself.

Emma seemed unmotivated in work today. Whilst Mrs Denver was out of the class doing who knew what, she occupied herself with wandering around the classroom, glancing over people's shoulders as she passed by. She stopped by Feli's shoulder and peered at his book.

"Hey, Emma," Feli yawned.

"Oh, nice, Feli," she pulled his book closer to take a look. "I wish I could draw like this, but I'm pretty hopeless."

"Join the club," Ludwig said.

She glanced at his drawings and chuckled. "Sorry, I don't mean to laugh. Mine's too terrible to be looked upon."

"I'm sure it can't be  _that_ bad," Ludwig replied.

Emma leant a little closer to them all and lowered her voice. "Have you seen Alfred's? I thought  _mine_ were bad until I saw  _his_."

Feliciano's eyes flicked to Yao, but it seemed he and Kiku were too endorsed with their work to be aware of the conversation happening nearby them. Emma dipped her head in acknowledgement and leant a little closer. Ludwig and Feli almost knocked their heads together trying to listen to her.

"All of his drawings resemble  _him_ to some extent," she whispered. "Even the women. That's not right. How can you somehow draw a woman like yourself if you're a guy?"

"Maybe he has repressed desires?" Feli's eyebrows rose high on his head.

"What, to be a woman?" she grinned. "That would be interesting for a high school reunion in years to come. We'll all be wondering where Alfred went, and then we'll realise he transitioned into a woman and changed his name to Karen or something."

" _Karen_ ," Ludwig snorted and dipped his head just as Mrs Denver came into the room, a stack of papers balanced dangerously in her arms.

"Are you doing work, Emma?" she asked.

"I'm getting some tips from Feli," Emma said innocently. "I think, sometimes, the best way to learn is to bounce ideas off of one another and ask for artistic advice from those with natural talent."

"Ah, yes, of course!" Mrs Denver looked slightly flustered. "Just don't spend the entire lesson asking for artistic advice. Do get some practical work done."

"I'll make my explanation quick, then!" Feli saluted and their teacher retired to her desk, although kept a slight eye on the three of them.

"I like to think he'd choose a better name than  _Karen_ ," Feli added as quietly as possible, and the three of them tried to suppress their laughter.

"Did you guys hear about the Talent Show?" Emma whispered, avoiding Mrs Denver's watchful eye.

"Vaguely," Ludwig replied. "Although it doesn't seem to have picked up, does it?"

"Not really," she admitted. "I assume, then, that neither of you have entered?"

Both Feli and Ludwig shook their heads.

Emma took that as an opportunity to continue speaking. "Did you hear they're actually really low on student staff? They haven't got anything planned. Lighting, staging, props, decoration. Nothing."

"That's bad," Feli gaped. "How come they haven't thought of preparations yet? These things take so much organisation considering they need to be prepared to fit the surroundings to the acts."

"That's what I thought," she grimaced. "I suppose it hasn't been prioritised."

"Emma, I think you've taken enough artistic advice by now," Mrs Denver commented from her desk. "Please resume your seat and continue the practical work."

"Yes, Mrs Denver," Emma stood, before adding in a lower whisper, "I don't know how this Talent Show will go, but if it doesn't work out, then we might have the final day of school off. What do you guys think?"

"That'd be nice," Feli smiled.

"That'd be a  _miracle_ ," Ludwig said. "If it's not a Talent Show, they'll have us in to do work. I hope they get their things together."

"When you put it like that, I'm almost tempted to get directing everything myself," Emma replied. "However, I'm useless at all that stuff. Really not my thing."

" _Emma_ ," Mrs Denver warned.

"Yes, Ma'am," Emma pushed away from the table and returned to her seat.

Ludwig resumed writing a neat explanation in his sketchbook about what he was doing, whereas Feli continued to wildly spread his drawings across the page in a form that would probably achieve the Mrs Denver "very interesting, very abstract".

* * *

**Feliciano Vargas**

* * *

Feli sat at his canvas the second he got home and put a brush to the surface, slowly stroking a watered down layer across the entire frame. It was always comforting to get his creative juices flowing, especially when there was a lot that needed to be done, in his opinion.

He heard footsteps thundering upstairs and turned on his stool to see Lovino push open the door. His older brother wandered into the room and assessed what he was doing carefully.

"Oh, good, you're not doing any work," he said, pleased, and dropped down on Feli's bed. "That means we can start making some progress."

"Progress?" Feli glanced away from the canvas to his brother, who was wringing his wrists and wore an anxious expression on his face. "What's wrong, Lovi? Did you have another fight with Papa?"

"No, he's been at the pub since lunchtime," Lovino almost spat. "He won't be back until later. Remember what I told you just this morning?"

"Not to miss my train?" Feli frowned. "I missed my train, by the way. Mr Saunders didn't really care, though. He usually doesn't."

"That's not what I'm talking about, idiota," Lovino rolled his eyes. "I'm talking about the party."

"Oh, that!" Feli almost dropped his brush in realisation. "I completely forgot!"

"I can tell," Lovino folded his arms moodily. "Either way, I told you to organise it but, naturally, I want to cover some basic things with you."

"Alright," Feli set his brush aside. "Does it have a theme?"

"It's a house party," Lovino stared at him. "Of course it doesn't have a theme."

"How would  _I_ know?" Feli frowned. "Never mind. I thought it might have a Christmas theeme, but I guess not."

"Do you think it should?" Lovino  asked, suddenly worried.

Feli shook his head and collected a notebook from his desk. "Christmas is tacky. I'm glad you said it had no theme. However, you can still call it a Christmas party depending on what date you were thinking of holding it."

"Second week into December," Lovino said.

"Alrighty," Feli noted that down. "I'd say preferably on a weekend, just so people are more likely to come. You could hold it on a Friday, but sometimes people are either too tired or already have plans for that day."

"Weekend," Lovino said and Feli jotted that down as well.

They heard the front door open downstairs and Lovino cursed quietly under his breath.

"Feli, make me a meal!" his father called from down below.

"OK, Pa-"

"Feli's  _busy_ at the moment, Papa," Lovino said impatiently. "Make yourself a snack."

Footsteps thundered harshly against the stairs and their father appeared in the doorway, a scowl on his face.

"You're never doing anything useful, you piece of shit," he spat at Lovino. "Why don't you make the fucking food for once?"

"Here's a plan: you got take one of your famous naps on the fucking sofa and by the time you're awake it'll be dinner?" Lovino stood and glowered.

Their father shot forwards and grabbed the collar of Lovino's shirt in between clenched fists. Although Lovino was taller, he was far more slender, their father being short and stocky. Feli's older brother grasped his father's wrists and grimaced, straining against his grasp.

"Papa; please, stop, Papa," Feli jumped to his feet. "I can get you something to eat. I honestly don't mind."

Their father grunted and shoved Lovino against the wardrobe, lumbering out of the room and staggering down the stairs. Feli glanced at Lovino, who was rubbing his neck and glowering at the doorway, green eyes gleaming with unveiled rage.

"Lovi, are you OK?" he asked quietly and put a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder.

Lovino shrugged his hand away aggressively. "You really shouldn't give in to that fucker, Feli. You've always been so weak."

His brother stormed out of the room and he heard the front door slam after a moment's silence in the house. Sighing, Feli trudged downstairs to make his father his favourite cheese, basil and tomato ciabatta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Kiku Honda** : Japan  
>  **Ludwig Beilschmidt** : Germany  
>  **Feliciano Vargas** : North Italy  
>  **Alfred Jones** : America  
>  **Yao Wang** : China
> 
> **Yong Soo Im** : South Korea  
>  **Emma Maes** : Belgium  
>  **Lovino Vargas** : South Italy


	11. Chapter 11

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**

* * *

Ludwig was early to school that day and he'd happened to stumble upon a poster for the Talent Show. Just looking at how it was advertised gave him little hope for how it would turn out.

It looked like a tacky American advertisement for sweets, with a lot of bright red and yellow, and bold black writing to prove a point that wasn't actually proven. It was like looking at a stage, with the spotlight shining down the middle and a chunk of writing at the centre, explaining audition times, as well as the date of the actual event.

He couldn't believe nothing had been set up. He'd kept updated with Emma and there had been no action put towards the staging. Ludwig thought that was one of the most important parts. If something went wrong with the organisation, then the event couldn't function properly. Nothing could work on weak foundations, he believed.

"Are you OK, Gilbert Beilschmidt's brother?" Mr Saunders asked as he passed by.

"Oh, ja, Sir," Ludwig frowned, concerned that his form tutor didn't know his name.

"You're not thinking of entering  _that_ , are you?" his teacher frowned. "I'd be obliged to support you as one of my students if you did... That's something Gilbert Beilschmidt would've done and, let's face it, you don't want to follow in his footsteps."

Mr Saunders gave him a knowing nod and walked on, leaving Ludwig to consider what he held clutched in his hands. Entering? No, he hadn't considered that for even a second. However, the idea of orchestrating the entire event and getting the background team to pull their shit together sounded strangely appealing to him. He decided that was something that needed further pondering.

* * *

**Kiku Honda**

* * *

He sat by a computer at break and logged in to check his e-mails. He saw he had received one by a certain 'Lucinda Reed'. He clicked it, out of curiosity, and saw it was a meek message from the girl in his manga club. He recalled that her name was, in fact, familiar, but tucked at the back of his mind.

It was a message telling him about photocopying the images of his Art book and sending them to her form room, which she'd also helpfully added in the e-mail. Kiku replied that he would get that sent to her.

He located his Art sketchbook from his locker. Kiku made sure to stay very organised. He put all books he didn't need on the day in his locker, but brought them home if he still had homework for them. He opened it up at the figure sketches. Although he'd filled them in at this stage, they would make suitable examples for her to have an idea about proportion.

Absently, Kiku carried his sketchbook to the photocopier. He joined in the queue and waited patiently, keeping his face buried in his book and sticking to his own space. The queue moved forwards, so Kiku did as well.

He raised his head and saw it was Yao standing in front of him. The other boy met his gaze, for he'd been taking a peek at his work. Kiku snapped his book shut, out of instinct, and they looked away from one another. They stood beside one another, waiting in the queue, Yao with a Maths book tucked under his arm, Kiku with his Art sketchbook held firmly to his chest.

The queue moved forwards. Neither said anything.

Finally, Yao reached the photocopier and wedged his book in between the scanner and the lid. There was a whirring and a light flicked across. Kiku waited impatiently as the other boy closed the lid shut with a snap. Unfortunately for both, the photocopier didn't miraculously speed up.

"So, what are you here for, aru?" Yao asked, decided to break the silence between them.

"Photocopying," Kiku answered.

"OK... Photocopying  _what_ , aru?" Yao prompted.

"Stuff," Kiku replied.

"Whatever," Yao sighed as the photocopier completed its task.

He took his books and left Kiku standing beside the photocopier. Quietly, he fitted his book in place and contemplated what had just happened. Yao had attempted to make conversation and he had bluntly rejected that proposition.

The question was, had he made the right decision in doing so?

Strange as that sounded, his once wonderful friendship with Yao had been blighted by the events of Year Four. There was a reaosn they had stood in that line, awkward and unable to communicate effectively. Years of separation only emphasised how different the two of them actually were.

Kiku thought he had made the right decision.

Kiku  _hoped_ he had made the right decision.

* * *

**Francis Bonnefoy**

* * *

Francis had never anticipated that being manager of a band would prove to be so difficult. Or maybe it was just working with Alfred in general that was difficult... The announcement of the band's name had instantly put off two of the band members, and with good reason. Recalling last week's flounder was enough to give Francis a headache...

"I find that both rude and offensive," Yao had said, instantly raising his hands on the piano.

"Say that again and I'm never coming back," Ivan had added, standing and walking away from the drums.

"Hey, where are you going?" Alfred had asked him, oblivious as always. "I could've done so much worse. At least I said 'Coms' instead of 'Commies', right?"

"Not right," Ivan had replied, still on his path through the doorway. "And to answer your question, I'm leaving because your 'idea' is pathetic."

"Wait-"

"Say anything else and I will definitely be quitting," Ivan had brushed past a grimacing Francis.

For a moment, Yao had sat at the piano, twiddling his thumbs whilst all eyes had settled on him to make his own decision. He had then cringed, standing with a slight shrug.

"I think it's more appropriate that I leave as well, aru," he had admitted. "I guess we'll talk later?"

And then he had left.

"Am I right in assuming you're back to square one again?" Roderich had asked specifically.

"Square one?" Alfred had frowned. "What's that?"

"Finding a band," the musical genius had answered and that had seemed to make Alfred throw the glove of defeat down as well.

"I make  _one_ suggestion and it gets cut down," he had complained, leaning the guitar against the wall. "I'm just as done as they are."

Alfred had left as well, leaving Francis to deal with the musically talented, just as a manager ought to do.

"That could've gone a lot better, in my opinion," Roderich had said.

"It also could've gone  _worse_ ," Francis had admitted, must to the surprise of both Roderich and Miss Lore. "The other two could've quit on the spot."

"They seemed about to," Miss Lore had pursed her thin lips together. "Considering you're now their manager, I expect you to find out whether this band is still going or not. Roderich is a student of significant musical talent and could be focusing his skills in different,  _better_ areas rather teaching the mere basics to a few of his student friends."

"I'll have it sorted," Francis had replied, instantly fleeing the room, no longer wanting to be under the cold scrutiny of Roderich and the dreaded Miss Lore.

Now he sat in the library, a week later, reading an e-mail from Miss Lore that he interpreted as this:

"If this band nonsense isn't cleared up by mid-October, I would advise you abandon all hope, as the Talent Show would be too close by then for them to actually accomplish something worthy of credit."

She didn't exactly write that, but Francis knew Miss Lore well enough to know that that was what she meant. He had been desperately attempting to contact the band members.

So far, he had had little luck and even less reception.

He had called Ivan on the night to attempt to reason with him, but he'd received the curt reply of:

"Alfred can talk to me himself," and that was said in a text  _after_ he had instantly hung up. Ivan had even ended the sentence with a full stop.

Yao had been a little more reasonable. He had said something along the lines of:

"I appreciate your concern, Francis, but I would much rather have Alfred apologise and speak to me face to face. I would also like him to do so out of his  _own_ decision... if that's possible", with several 'aru's inserted here and there.

He had expected Alfred to be a little easier than the other two. He had called him up over the weekend and he'd been  _very_ non-receptive, very much like Ivan. His only replies then had been "hmm" and "alright" and "sure, dude, whatever". Doubtful, Francis had waited a day and then approached Yao after Maths to ask if Alfred had apologised yet. The answer was a cold "no".

That had led to further attempts of communication on Francis' behalf. Ivan and Yao seemed to have chosen to hang out with one another and, although he would eat lunch with them, Francis found the sudden disconnection confusing. Alfred had chosen to completely avoid him and the others. Arthur had appeared infrequently throughout the week, leading Francis to wonder whether his childhood friend had chosen the path of a social introvert and hermit, especially as Alfred wasn't even hanging out with  _him_. Strangely, he'd chosen to attach himself to his brother, much to the disdain of Matthew's friend, Carlos, who couldn't stand Alfred in the slightest.

There was one time when Francis had caught Alfred. It had been Wednesday lunch when he'd approached the other boy to inquire about speaking with both Ivan and Yao. Alfred had nervously coughed and claimed that his time was now being devoted to his Maths education. After that, Francis noticed he strictly avoided him, even opting to abandon his brother and Carlos if he saw Francis in the corridor.

Francis drummed his fingers on the table and glanced around the library. That was when he noticed Arthur hunched over a computer. Curious, since he had seen  _extremely_ little of the other boy this week, he approached and glanced over his shoulder. Arthur was so endorsed in his work that he didn't even notice Francis standing behind him.

His screen was lit up with hand to hand combat techniques, as well as methods on how to use guns and follow people discreetly.

Francis frowned, feeling a little ill. "Arthur,  _what_ are you doing?"

Arthur jumped in his seat and swiftly minimised everything. He turned in his seat, green eyes bright with surprise, but his expression quickly morphed into one of disdain.

"What the hell, Francis?" he hissed. "Why are you sneaking around?"

"I should ask  _you_ the same thing," he replied. "I haven't talked to you in a while."

"I've been busy," Arthur said irritably. "Now, leave me to it."

"What is ' _it_ '*?" Francis pressed.

"That's none of your business," Arthur glowered at him.

"You're researching usage of firearms," Francis whispered, sitting beside him. "Also, we've been friends since before school. Tell me. I have a right to know."

"I  _know_ what you'll say," Arthur replied.

"That means you're doing something bad," Francis sighed. "What is it?"

"Feliks and I saw Mr Vurkel in a picture on the Daily Fail and I went to place in an attempt to find him," Arthur admitted. "I've been going there after school every day, but I have yet to find him. I'm brushing up on my abilities as a spy, just so I can be a little more subtle about everything."

"You're stalking an ex-teacher?" Francis gaped. "Arthur, I told you  _not_ to go looking for Mr Vurkel, rather than to throw yourself into his arms."

"I need  _answers_ , Francis," Arthur insisted. "You can't convince me otherwise."

"I know," Francis sighed, exasperated. "If things start going wrong, get out of there as soon as you can. And  _please_ come running to me. I'll be able to help you."

"Nothing's going to go wrong," Arthur said sourly, and opened up the tabs on his computer once more. "I need to get on, so leave me be."

Francis shook his head and pushed away from the table. He left the library and met Alfred on the way in. He was sure the other boy had time him he'd had Maths tutoring that lunch...

"Alfred...?" he blinked.

"Oh, geez,  _Francis_ , dude... I was just looking for you and Matt said you were here," Alfred said and Francis' hopes skyrocketed.

"What is it?" he asked, stepping aside from the doorway to let other students pass.

"I forgot what our Science homework was and I figured you'd know," Alfred said.

"What about..."

"Hmm?" Alfred interrupted, homework diary in his hands.

Francis blinked. "Our homework is questions two, three, four and five A."

"Hey, thanks, dude," Alfred pretended to jot it down. Francis could tell from the obvious way his pen made no noise against the paper. "I gotta go now, so I'll catch you later?"

"Wait, Alfred, what about-"

"I've gotta run, Francis," Alfred was already charging towards the door. "But we can always talk later?"

"What about the band?" Francis called after him.

"I gotta go!" Alfred ignored him. "It's urgent."

Francis felt the corners of his own mouth tug down as he watched Alfred pretty much sprint away in an attempt to dodge responsibility.

He texted Alfred after school that day. Although it said Alfred had seen his text, no reply was offered. So much for talking later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ludwig Beilschmidt** : Germany  
>  **Kiku Honda** : Japan  
>  **Yao Wang** : China  
>  **Francis Bonnefoy** : France  
>  **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia  
>  **Alfred Jones** : America  
>  **Arthur Kirkland** : England
> 
> **Roderich Edelstein** : Austria   
> **Matthew Jones** : Canada  
>  **Carlos Machado** : Cuba
> 
> *There are honestly so many times that I wonder how this Fic would've been different had it been written in 2018. I didn't see the new IT film until this year, but this definitely would've been the opportunity to make some silly little comment about Pennywise and such. For all of you who have yet to see it, it's really good and I eagerly await the second part in 2019. Although, it's spooks, so make sure you're old enough to watch it!


	12. Chapter 12

**Arthur Kirkland**

* * *

After Francis had taken a full look at what he was doing, Arthur began to wonder whether he should be more subtle about his research approach, or if it really was just Francis minding other people's business. Nevertheless, Arthur wrote down all the websites he'd found in his homework diary and closed all the tabs on his computer afterwards. He even made sure to delete his history, so that the school wouldn't become concerned.

He gathered the books he'd found and slung his bag over his shoulder before retreating to the desk where the librarian sat.

Miss Olsey was one of a kind. There was nothing particularly wrong with the lady, until you broke the library rules or returned a book abominably late. She was heavyset, a robust woman who was nearing the age of forty. Her frame was larger than Arthur's, for she was taller and broader, which created a certain level of intimidation that Arthur casually ignored unless directly spoken to. She had extremely square jaw and a thick, wide forehead. Her hair was cut short in a bob, but that still hadn't stopped Year Eight Alfred from calling her "Sir" and treating her like a male teacher when she first arrived. He'd only been fortunate to live because she seemed to accept "Sir", and had obviously been mistaken for a bloke before. Arthur was sure she had come from some kind of military camp and had retired or something. All he knew was that, if you took books from the library, you should return them on time and in good condition in order to keep your life.

Miss Olsey checked his books through. "Name?"

"Arthur Kirkland," he replied.

She typed in his name. She waited. The computer loaded. She clicked on his name and scanned the books through. There was  _A Man Called Inrepid_ by William Stevenson,  _Gideon's Spies_ by Gordon Thomas and  _Churchill and Secret Service_ by David Stafford. Miss Olsey glanced at him as she passed the books through, but said nothing and handed them to him once she was done. She printed a receipt and typed in the dreaded deadline.

"Return them on the second week of November," she instructed. "That's your deadline."

"Yes, Miss Olsey," he took the books from her hands.

Swiftly, Arthur left the library, tucking the books into his bag. He was walking along when he recalled Francis had been alone. He wondered why, because Francis was usually one to surround himself with people. Come to think of it, everyone had been quiet at registration. The others had barely looked at one another, let alone said anything.

Arthur wondered if he'd missed some kind of massive argument amongst them and dearly hoped he hadn't. He wasn't one to enjoy drama amongst friends.

He returned to the older students' common room and promptly made himself tea. There was no sign of any of the others and other students paid him no mind as he passed them. He settled himself into a tight little corner and began to read Stevenson's novel, taking notes about the actions of spies as he did so. He believed learning from others from the past was a good way of gaining the experience of a spy.

* * *

**Feliciano Vargas**

* * *

"I don't really know what Lovino expects me to do..." he admitted to Ludwig and Kiku. "It all seems a little sudden for me to be planning a party as well as juggling my last year of school. What do you two think?"

Ludwig glanced up from a table he was drawing. It looked complicated so Feli hadn't bothered to ask him what it was about. "I'm sure Lovino knows you can't handle it."

He went back to his table, too endorsed in academia to be listening. Instead, Feli appealed to his other friend, who sat with his Art sketchbook in his lap, but doodled on a blank sheet of paper he'd rested on top of it.

"What do you think, Kiku?" Feli asked.

The other boy raised his head and frowned. "If this party is too time consuming and is getting in the way of your studies, then tell your brother and he can organise his own party."

"Lovi couldn't organise the three of us into a line," Feli argued. "He needs me. Besides, if I do this party planning for him, there's an extremely high chance that he'd invite me and my friends to his party."

"I suppose, then, this is your motive for doing it?" Kiku asked.

Feli nodded. "Lovi's parties are actually pretty awesome, because he usually holds this with one of his friend, Antonio. Tony's a really cool guy and his parties are a blast. There's drinks, girls, dancing, music. It's amazing, really." 

Ludwig glanced up at last. "And  _you're_ organising this?"

"That's right, I am," Feli smiled proudly. "Which is why it's gotta be absolutely amazing. Lovi would be devastated if I messed up his party."

"But what would your dad think about that?" Ludwig asked. "My dad wouldn't be happy if I threw a party in his house."

Feli smiled in response. He had never actually told Ludwig or Kiku the truth about his father; that was something he dealt with in silence alongside Lovino, especially after the death of their grandfather. As a child, Feli had never noticed his grandfather's attempts to protect him had involved countless trips to their homeland away from their father, or even staying at his fantastic villa in Rome. This would later be sold by his father for money that was spent towards alcohol and gambling.

He had never invited either of his friends around his house, no matter how long he'd known them. He didn't want them to know about his wreck of a father. He didn't want them to know anything. Instead, he'd only told them his father was frequently busy with making sure they were provided for. He'd told them that his mother had divorced him on grounds of wanting to go separate ways, rather than the truth in that she'd abandoned both he and Lovi for another man she deemed better. He had also missed out the numerous issues with his father. They only knew a section of the story, and even that section was largely fabricated.

But Feli would make up for all this lost time in their futures. He would invite them over as much as he could when he had his own house. He would include them in all his family events and let them know everything. There was even a chance he'd tell them the truth about his father once he was safe away from the house. For now, though, Feliciano Vargas was trapped in his own home by age, education and the lack of opportunity to progress.

"Papa's out that weekend," Feli explained.

In truth, Lovino and Feli would desperately get him out of the house. They'd managed it before. Both of them would end up dedicating some of their hard earned money from Feli's Saturday job and Lovino's minimum wage part time career in order to get rid of their father for the night. It may have sounded a waste, but any form of time away from his father was worth it.

"Ah, one of those things," Kiku nodded.

"I'm currently going to be sorting out the guest list with Lovi," Feli continued. "It's just a little stressful, because as soon as I get in through the door, he'll come up to me and be telling me what I should organise next."

"What about homework?" Kiku asked.

Feli glanced at him and chuckled. "I don't really do my homework, Kiku. I'm not that bothered about it.

Kiku nodded, whilst Ludwig smiled and shook his head despairingly. The two of them returned to their work, whilst Feli began to quietly plan his next course of action in his head.

* * *

**Francis Bonnefoy**

* * *

Francis seated himself with Yao and Ivan, who had gravitated towards a bench on the Quad. The Quad was a peaceful little greenspace dedicated to the enjoyment of students via scenery. It was peaceful and nice, but they didn't go there often because Alfred hated sitting around, doing nothing, for ages. There was a bench that sat beneath two blossom trees, and at this time of winter, its leaves had long begun to desert its branches in preparation for the coming winter. It was a beautiful autumn scene, the green grass contrasting with leaves of red, gold and brown.

"I've had no luck speaking with Alfred," Francis finally admitted, for he'd chosen to leave them in the dark about his attempts to speak with their American friend. "He keeps on avoiding me."

"He's avoiding  _you_?" Yao frowned, surprised. "I'd have thought he'd keep on speaking terms with you. Who does he hang out with? Arthur?"

Francis reflected on Arthur's strange mission. "Arthur's been busy on his first coursework draft. Alfred's been hanging out with his brother and Carlos."

"Doesn't Carlos...?" Yao looked quizzical.

"Hate him? Oui, but that doesn't seem to have stopped him," Francis sighed. "Alfred's just come to ignoring me. There was a time when he would avoid the subject of the band and the Talent Show, but now he's just doing his own thing. Miss Lore has naturally been threatening to discontinue the band for reasons relating to Roderich's musical studies. I'm not entirely sure of what to do myself, especially as he won't speak to me."

"Sometimes, I wish he's a little more aware of what he says, aru," Yao sighed. "Maybe I should talk to him... Neither of us wanted to be in this band in the first place, so maybe discontinuing it isn't such a bad idea."

Francis remained silent. He had liked the idea of getting involved with World Academy's activities a little more, considering it was their final year and all. Even if he had been working in the shadows, he would still be able to feel the pride of his friends appearing before the whole school and playing music. Alfred had been so enthusiastic, only to suddenly drop the whole matter and avoid it.

Ivan had also been quiet. He sat on the other side of Yao on the bench, violet eyes trained on the floor, pulling a daisy apart.

"What about you, Ivan?" Francis asked. "Do you think it would be better to discontinue the band?"

"Hmm," he replied, which meant either yes, no, or neither.

Yao turned his head to Francis and mouthed, "He's been very quiet."

Francis nodded and stared straight ahead, watching some younger years chattering amiably about things that the three of them would probably find trivial."

"I just wish he would apologise," Yao said wistfully. "That's all I want at this stage. An apology. Some of the things he comes out with are just so rude it's a wonder he doesn't realise before saying them."

"I can agree," Francis replied.

Suddenly, Ivan just stood and chucked the daisy to the ground, before stalking off. He headed straight out of the Quad. Francis raised both eyebrows and glanced at Yao, who looked genuinely surprised by his behaviour.

"Follow him?" Francis opted, and Yao nodded.

The pair of them stood and hurried after Ivan.

* * *

**Ivan Braginsky**

* * *

He kept on a straight course, because he knew exactly where Alfred would be and he also guessed Yao and Francis would have followed him. Hearing Francis tell them that Alfred had chosen to ignore them all had only fuelled the rage of the other boy not apologising after clearly upsetting both he and Yao.

He stormed down the pathway to the forest and tracked the markings until he could see the wooden cabin up ahead. Without hesitation, he climbed up the ladder and pushed open the door to see Alfred lying on the bed with his headphones in.

Alfred's response was just as sudden. He took the headphones and stood up, opening his mouth to speak. Ivan grabbed the collar of his shirt in both fists.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" he demanded of Alfred, who blinked in surprise. "Why are you ignoring Francis? You have no reason to. Why can't you ever realise when you're in the wrong? Why can't you see that your stupid band name is bringing us all apart, and for what cause? A dumb name? You need to grow up. You need to be a little more sensitive towards those around you. You need to stop acting like a little kid every time something doesn't go right. You need to stop avoiding your responsibilities. What do you care about more, Alfred? Your band or your friends?"

Alfred stared for a moment, and Ivan almost gave on him until he inhaled and grimaced.

"I didn't... I... I don't... I..." he swallowed and looked away.

Ivan released his shirt from his grip and let Alfred stagger back a little.

"Dude, I didn't realise the name would offend you and Yao so much," Alfred rubbed at his neck. "I thought it was funny and a little catchy, but I guess no one else shared that opinion. I don't want to come across as immature, so I'm sorry for the name. We can change it, just as long as I get to be in a band with you two..."

Ivan frowned and dipped his head for a moment. He and Alfred stood in awkward silence, the wind blowing the leaves around, the rustling surrounding them. Ivan then smiled and pulled Alfred into a headlock.

"Hey, dude!" Alfred squirmed.

"Geez, you're an idiot," he replied. "I'm back, but don't do more stupid things, da?"

"Right, right, jus' lemme go," Alfred laughed.

"I suppose that means I'm back too, then," Yao said from the doorway.

They raised their heads to see Francis and Yao peering in.

Francis sighed with relief and entered the treehouse with a dramatic wave of his hands. "Now that we're back in business, I can e-mail Miss Lore and you three can get practising."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Arthur Kirkland** : England  
>  **Francis Bonnefoy** : France  
>  **Feliciano Vargas** : North Italy  
>  **Ludwig Beilschmidt** : Germany  
>  **Kiku Honda** : Japan  
>  **Yao Wang** : China  
>  **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia  
>  **Alfred Jones** : America
> 
> **Lovino Vargas** : South Italy


	13. Chapter 13

**Kiku Honda**

* * *

He sat in his manga club once more. For some strange reason, Feli had opted to come along and was idly doodling beside him rather than actually performing any impressive feat of work like he usually could.

"I'm sorry but, who is this guy?" Yong Soo asked impatiently, gesturing to Feli.

"My name's Feliciano Vargas," Feli suddenly said, snapping back into the real world, it seemed. "I'm Kiku's friend. It's really very nice to meet you."

Yong Soo blinked, a little thrown, but accepted the answer and didn't reply. Kiku sighed and stretched his paper out. He'd chosen to do an A3 piece, a figure performing an impressive kick towards the viewer, whilst holding a pair of nun-chucks in their hands. He needed a better view of the piece.

The door opened and Ludwig peered in. Kiku and Feli hadn't actually seen as much of him as before during this last week or so. There had been no explanation, but then, neither of them had exactly asked either, so there was no fault on anyone's behalf.

"Oh, hey, Kiku, may I have a word?" Ludwig asked.

"Sure thing," Kiku stood and set his drawing aside. "Just keep what you're doing. Feli can watch over you and probably help you if you need anything."

That last part was directed to his class, who bobbed their heads up and down. He walked across the classroom and stepped outside with Ludwig, closing the door behind him and taking a few paces away to avoid nosy students listening in on their conversation.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Has something happened?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Ludwig said. "I was just wondering, you're very good at drawing, aren't you, Kiku?"

"Yes, but so is Feli," Kiku frowned.

"I know, but Feli isn't exactly focused," Ludwig explained. "I was wondering if you would like to design a new poster for the Talent Show?"

"The Talent Show?" Kiku blinked. "How come?"

"I've decided to organise it," Ludwig said. "I got in contact with the current admin and they were too flustered to keep their positions. I'm directing the Talent Show. I wanted to start by roping in some acts and the current poster is piss poor. I want a better one and I know you can make that for me."

Kiku considered. "I'm sure I can do that."

Ludwig blinked and frowned before shrugged and accepting his answer.

"I will do my best," Kiku nodded. "Do I have a deadline?"

Ludwig nodded. "Before half-term."

"So, three weeks," Kiku muttered. "I think I can do that. However, I do not want to put my school work behind, so I may end up giving it in close to the deadline."

Ludwig shrugged. "That's not a problem to me. How about we do a progress check in a week or two?"

Kiku nodded. "Are you going back to organisation and maintenance?"

"Yes," Ludwig said. "There's still a lot that needs to be done and I only have eight weeks to set it up. I've ordered lighting, but they told me they could only have it delivered until after half term. It's a problem, but I'll have to deal with it."

Kiku nodded again and watched as Ludwig turned and left the corridor, taking the staircase down. Kiku returned to the room and sat down to continue his drawing, whilst Feli slept at the desk.

* * *

**Alfred Jones**

* * *

"We're shit," Alfred lowered his guitar and glanced quietly around the room. "The only one that's remotely good is Ivan and that's because his sister taught him those killer moves."

Ivan rolled his eyes and tapped lightly on a cymbal.

"I didn't think we were that bad, aru," Yao replied forlornly. "Just unpractised. It's been a couple of weeks."

"Where the hell is Roderich?" Alfred demanded, glancing around the music room.

Usually, the musical genius never left the room and he sometimes had to wonder whether it was because his love and affection for music had morphed into a psychological obsession, or if there was a hidden room somewhere that led to a second house of his where he could sleep, eat, wash and be ready to play music whenever.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Francis said.

He was seated at a little desk where Miss Lore sometimes sat to grade practise theory exams her students handed in. In front him were timetables where the her students handed in. In front of him were timetables where the four of them would meet. Ivan and Yao were often free, but Miss Ronan had put in place the Math tutoring sessions. There was some part of him that was just relieved to have the band together.

After this week, they had just seven weeks until the Talent Show.

"He said he'd help us," Alfred moaned. "But I feel like I've made no improvement."

"I have, aru," Yao said smugly. "I can now fluently do a C major scale over two octaves."

"And  _I_ can put a beat to it!" Ivan added cheerfully.

"Yeah, that's great and all, but how many judges will a scale with a beat impress?" Alfred sighed. "If it was a bunch of Year Sevens, then they'd get pity points. We're too old to be considered embarrassingly cute."

"I bet girls still think  _I'm_ cute, aru," Yao said. "Speaking of which, when did  _you_ start getting action, Francis?"

Francis sat up, wide eyed and glanced over at them.

"Yeah, actually, I wanna know," Ivan paused in the light tapping he'd been doing on the drum.

"It's no one in this school, if that's what you want to know," Francis said.

"Where did you meet her?" Yao pressed. "Have there been  _more_ girls?"

Francis glanced over. "She was a summer fling in the summer of Year Eleven. And there has been another, but she was a little older..."

"Dude, you got an older woman?" Alfred looked at his friend with new eyes. "That's pretty neat."

"Yes, but I don't think she'd remember me," Francis admitted sadly. "And I don't remember her that well... Drink can have a lot of negative influence."

The three of them nodded until someone cleared their throat. The four of them glanced to the door where Roderich stood, looking irritated.

"Lovely story," his voice dripped with sarcasm. "Really pulled my heartstrings. However, I don't see much practise going on."

"That's  _not_ fair," Yao complained. "We've been here for at least ten minutes playing the odd tune and whatever whilst you've been doing whatever the fuck you were doing, aru. Speaking of which, where were you? I was getting bored, aru."

"It seems, Yao, you've forgotten the main rule here," Roderich scowled. "I teach, you listen. When did I ever say talking back was your responsibility or right? Remember that  _you_ came here for  _my_ help, rather than asking you to do the Talent Show. If you want to improve, you have to listen."

"That didn't explain where you were, though, da?" Ivan frowned, and flinched when Roderich glowered at him.

"Actually, I just finished my lunch," he said importantly. "And I happen to be a slow walker."

"Well, you can say-"

"Play me Schumann's  _Kinderszenen, Opus Fifteen_ ," Roderich ordered him.

Yao's face fell. "Shoe child what, aru?"

The superiority returned in Roderich's purple eyes. "I suppose you ought to start listening, then, right?"

Silently, Alfred watched Yao prepare himself for further onslaught from the Austrian musician.

"I actually wanted to work on something with you three today," Roderich's tone of voice changed suddenly as he lifted a violin in his hands. "I want to work on beats and timing. I hope you all have some understanding of the C Major scale by now?"

Yao looked smug. "I can play it in two octaves fluently."

"That's good for a beginner, I suppose," Roderich commented. "However, as the pianist, you act as the soul that attaches the body of the guitar and the heart of the drums. Although it is never the piano that people claim to hear, opposed to the far more furious cries of the guitar and drums, it is the blood that pumps through the veins, the neurons that travel from brain to fingertips. The piano carries all other instruments, guiding them to breathe life into the sheet music. Let's hope your playing matches that."

Alfred watched a crestfallen expression fill his friend's face and felt a stab of sympathy towards the other boy as he balanced the guitar in his hands.

"Are you all ready?" Roderich lifted the bow to the violin strings. "Follow me carefully, Ivan. Yao, you want two notes per beat. Alfred, I want you to play four. I repeat, are you all ready?"

The four of them nodded.

"Then we'll start," he lowered the bow on the instrument's delicate strings and began to play.

* * *

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**

* * *

It was drawing near to six thirty by the time Ludwig deemed it fine to call it a day. He had established a team of four working beneath him and believed that his team were competent in what they did. They were the best when it came to construction and as they were setting up the stage and preparing props and lights and seating for the audience, Ludwig thought they were the most suitable students in his year for this position.

Tino Väinämöinen, Berwald Oxenstierna, Matthias Køhler and Lukas Bondevik were a reclusive group that seldom spoke to people other than one another.

He was in charge of the group, but he'd set Tino onto statistics. Out of the four of them, he could trust Tino to get things right and the amount of money they'd be spending would be to his liking. He had been put in charge of organising the type of decorations he wanted to be included and, so far, Ludwig liked what he'd been shown in the catalogue. Tino was good at budget browsing, but also managing to muster some attractively cheap items. He was a nice guy with a gentle attitude and was very understanding that Ludwig only had so much time, so was being aware of when ordered items would arrive.

Matthias' job was a little similar. He looked into manufacturing the pieces. He insisted DIY was far better than buying premade furniture. Carefully, he would look in a DIY catalogue for building the entire stage. Whilst it would be time consuming, he was also aware of where to find cheap furniture. Once more, with the budget in mind, Matthias was able to locate seating for the audience, for the judges, the stage itself, the curtain pole above, as well as all the screws and bolts that would be needed to construct everything he was getting. He was a loud spoken chap and, whilst that would usually get on Ludwig's nerves, there was something about Matthias that was charmingly funny. You couldn't hate him.

Berwald was in charge of actually putting the pieces together. Ludwig could see why Matthias and Tino had instantly opted him for the job. He was extremely big, standing a little taller even than Ludwig himself. He was a master when it came to putting things togeter, which was why he was the appointed master of building. He was extremely quiet, but extremely efficient. Once set on a task by Tino, Berwald wouldn't stop. He finished everything in good timing, but had so far been a little idle since nothing had arrived.

Finally, there was Lukas. In Ludwig's opinion, the way he spoke gave the impression of a monotonous acceptance to do as told. So far, Ludwig found that, if given instructions to do something, he would do it and far exceed the limit. For example, Ludwig wanted some textile materials for Tino to assess as decoration and told Lukas to get it. Lukas returned with much more fabric than necessary, but enough to say that they wouldn't be running out any time soon. He was a useful asset to the team.

Ludwig was just grateful to have a team at all. He'd arrived to see the situation and had found the previous administrators lounging around, lamenting their lack of materials. They had been swiftly usurped and Ludwig had sent them all packing to their classes. They'd been using this as an excuse to skip class, for which Ludwig found unacceptable.

"Well done, guys," Ludwig said. "I think we can say we're done for the day."

"Progress is looking good," Tino beamed. "I can't wait to see the finished result."

"Neither," Berwald said.

Ludwig anticipated that moment as well. He envisioned greatness in this setup, even if it was just for a school Talent Show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Kiku Honda** : Japan  
>  **Feliciano Vargas** : North Italy  
>  **Ludwig Beilschmidt** : Germany  
>  **Alfred Jones** : America  
>  **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia  
>  **Yao Wang** : China  
>  **Francis Bonnefoy** : France
> 
> **Yong Soo Im** : South Korea  
>  **Roderich Edelstein** : Austria  
>  **Tino Väinämöinen** : Finland  
>  **Berwald Oxenstierna** : Sweden  
>  **Matthias Køhler** : Denmark  
>  **Lukas Bondevik** : Norway


	14. Chapter 14

**Feliciano Vargas**

* * *

"Lovino, I'm very busy this week," he scowled. "I and Kiku are organising a surprise eighteenth for Ludwig."

Lovino's brow furrowed. "What? That potato eating bastard?"

"Lovino, Ludwig may like potatoes as much as I do pasta, but he's my best friend," Feli folded his arms. "He's turning  _eighteen_. That's such an important year and he had the audacity to tell me and Kiku that he had nothing planned."

"But what about  _my_ party?" Lovino looked worried.

"Don't be so selfish," Feli scolded his older sibling. "Your party is ages away. And besides, I was the one who got your eighteenth together. At least let me do this for my friend."

"What are you thinking of doing?" Lovino asked, choosing not to be difficult.

"We're going camping this weekend," Feli explained. "Kiku picked to go along the forest route. It's about two hours from here, so I'm afraid it'll be just you and Papa."

"Wait," his older brother looked worried. "How long will you be gone?"

"If Ludwig likes it, the whole weekend, pretty much, and I'm sure he will like it since he's such an outdoorsy person," Feli explained calmly. "If it goes horribly wrong, then we may be back sooner."

"When do you go?" Lovino asked, panicked. "I can't cook or do anything. What am I supposed to do? Help me, Feli. Give me ideas."

"Lovi, calm down," Feli planted both hands on his brother's shoulders. "I knew you'd freak out, so for once, I've actually prepared something beforehand. I leave Friday evening. For that night, you've been given simple instructions on how to make a margherita pizza. The next morning, have toast or cereal. Papa likes to eat ciabatta for lunch. He likes goat's cheese, basil and tomato on it. Don't worry; I'll prepare everything before I go."

"You missed Papa's breakfast," Lovino grumbled.

Feli smiled knowingly. "Papa's never awake for breakfast. On Saturday night, I've left a recipe for spaghetti bolognaise. You shouldn't have a problem. Sunday morning and lunch can be the same as Saturday. Are we all clear?"

"You're back Sunday night?" he looked doubtful.

Feli hugged his brother. "Of course I will be. You'll be fine, Lovi. You're twenty and you can manage your job, so you can manage Papa."

Lovino remained doubtful, but nodded nevertheless. Feli didn't know what to do about his brother. Lovino and Papa had always been on cold terms with one another.

Their mother had left them when Feli was just barely three years old.* Whilst it was difficult to forgive her for leaving him and Lovino under the terrible care of their father, he recalled, from faint childhood memories, that his mother had been a superficial person. He could blame her all he liked for what she did, but it was clear his mother hadn't regarded either of her children with love.

Lovino had been six at the time and had become extremely difficult, as their mother had always had a slightly tenderer spot for him, whereas Feli could barely remember her. Once she was gone, Lovino blamed, and still did blame, their father for her leaving, rather than their mother. Unable to accept that their mother had thrown him aside for a new life with another man, Lovino became aggressive and vicious, and directed this anger solely towards Papa. Unfortunately, their father wasn't the type of man to accept treatment of that kind, so there had been many times when he had lashed out at Lovino as a result. Lovino always called himself weak, because he could never bring himself to harm his own father. His brutal nature also separated him more from their grandfather, which had put Lovino into a situation of isolation and abandonment.

Feli believed his brother was one of the strongest people he had ever met. Lovino took a lot from their father and still managed to stand straight and look him in the eye whenever things became heated between them. There were times when Lovino could break down because he hated the life he and Feli had to live, but Feli never blamed him, and always attempted to help him stand afterwards.

It was Antonio who had worked wonders for their family. He had arrived when Lovino reached Year Ten at World Academy, when Feli himself had just begun secondary school. Tony quickly learnt about Lovino's family situation and took him away to Spain for a week during a holiday that summer. Lovino returned a little more light-hearted, able to cope from their mother leaving and Antonio continue to remain that day supporting him from the background. If it had not been for Tony, Feli couldn't say where Lovino would be.

"What if I get something wrong?" Lovino fretted. "What if Papa wants a different lunch?"

"If dinner goes wrong, order pizza," Feli instructed. "Papa won't mind so long as hot food is presented before him. Give him enough drinks and you could tell him you'd made the pizza yourself. As for changing lunch, Papa never asks for specifics. I just know his favourite is ciabatta."

Lovino nodded forlornly. Feli worried about him and felt sorry for him, but he desperately wanted to be there for Ludwig on his eighteenth.

"Will you be OK?" Lovino suddenly asked and Feli glanced at him.

"Me?" he blinked. "I'll be fine. Why do you ask?"

"Because I thought you couldn't survive in the wilderness for very long," Lovino admitted. "I think it'll be you who suffers the most from this."

Feli rolled his eyes and smiled. "If I hate it so much, I'll find myself a hotel or someplace where Ludwig and Kiku can meet me at. I know what you mean, though. I'm pretty bad at camping. Something tells me that Kiku and Ludwig will get the grips of it much better than I do."

Lovino laughed aloud. "You'll suffer, Feli. When does your train leave, again?"

Feli checked his watch and saw it was quarter past eight.

"Oh, crap!" he cried, collecting his books and folders and shoving them all into his bag like a whirlwind. "My train came five minutes ago, but the next one's in five minutes. I need to get a move on! I'll see you later, Lovi!"

"Um, bye?" Lovino waved awkwardly as Feli dashed away down the road towards the train station.

He missed the eight twenty train and had to wait for the late eight forty one.

* * *

**Alfred Jones**

* * *

Behind Yao's back, he had gathered the other three to hold a meeting. It was nearly Yao's birthday and he wanted to celebrate it by doing something cool. However, he wanted the others to also have a say in what they should do for Yao's birthday. Luckily, all had managed to save some time during the week for this meeting. Roderich had been pleased to have a pause from band work, because he would also be having his birthday. Alfred, the Coms (he still sometimes called them that in his head) and Francis had all bought him the entire collection of Schumann's  _Kinderszenen_ on CD, for which he'd been thrilled about.

However, he now had to prepare something for Yao's birthday. He wanted it to be great, just to show a true, flamboyant act of friendship.

"It has to express his personality," Alfred instructed. "So, I'd say bold."

They were all seated beneath the trees. It was cold, but the autumn forest surrounding them was amazing.

"That's not the world I would use to pick Yao," Arthur frowned. "I would choose 'traditional' instead."

"No, 'bold' is like him," Alfred protested. "He's never afraid to say whatever he likes."

"Bold is a much kinder term than rude," Francis admitted.

"OK, what about..." Alfred paused for a thought. "...something that he likes."

"He likes food?" Ivan said.

"We can't take him to a restaurant," Alfred rolled his eyes. "Everyone does that nowadays. I want something a little more exciting."

"Is he really that much of an exciting guy, though?" Arthur hugged his knees. "I say we take him for a traditional meal of his choosing. He'd like that; especially if it's expensive and we pay for it."

"Dude, we're still students," Alfred said. "I, personally, have a price range."

"He won't want something insensible," Francis frowned. "I think dinner out would be something Yao would like."

"No, no, no, we want this to be a birthday he'll remember," Alfred insisted. "It's his  _eighteenth_."

"We want him to remember it for a  _good_ reason," Arthur rolled his eyes. "However, if you want it to be that special, why not wait until we're all twenty one? We should be at university by then,** so we'll have a little more freedom..."

"C'mon, dude, your eighteenth is something you have to experience in your adolescent years," Alfred whined. "I want something that Yao will remember for weeks on end afterwards. Years even. Something that can bring the guy to life for a night."

"A one-way trip to Antarctica?" Ivan suggested and received odd glances. "Sorry... I would certainly be persuaded to be alive if someone sent me to a horrible, cold place..."

"I think you completely ignored the fact that birthday parties are  _enjoyable_ ," Alfred said pointedly. "I for one think we should go for something exciting. He might be surprised and angry at first, but then we need to get him to like it and he'd probably change his mind."

"He's not the most flexible thinking of people," Arthur looked sceptical. "As a matter of fact, I think we should listen to Francis and have dinner out."

"We can do that," Alfred shrugged. "I just feel something else would benefit the night and make it more memorable."

"Well, I think food out is fine," Ivan said.

"You know what?" Alfred smiled and stood. " _I'll_ think of something. I've already got an idea that will probably appeal to him, but I need to check it out first. I'll tell you guys about it when I've got it sorted."

"What if we disagree with it?" Arthur asked.

"You won't," Alfred promised with his best hero's smile. "Trust me."

* * *

**Yao Wang**

* * *

Yao wandered into the music room to see Roderich hanging around with Elizabeta. He had only left the group to hand in some additional Maths homework he'd done to improve upon a subject. When he'd returned, they'd all been gone. He was confused and his best guess was that they'd retreated back to the music room. However, that was not the case.

"Oh, hello, Yao," Roderich seemed surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for the others," Yao said. "Have you seen them?"

"No, sorry," Roderich replied.

There was an awkward pause as Yao considered what to do next and Roderich awaited some kind of answer. He could do the usual "OK, thanks..." and wander away or...

Elizabeta broke the silence. "Why don't you stay here with us this lunchtime? We don't mind. It's your birthday this week, isn't it? Roderich was saying."

Yao blinked and then nodded. "Yeah, actually."

He seated himself with Elizabeta and Roderich.

"What are you doing?" Roderich asked.

"My parents decided to take me all the way to Chinatown on Saturday," he explained. "Dad said I would like it. I think he's right. I've never been."

"A day out sounds fun," Roderich smiled. "Elizabeta bought us both tickets to see an opera orchestra event in the city. She even organised a place to stay for the night, since it ends at around one in the morning."

_Are they a thing?_ Yao wondered, but responded with a smile and a nod.

"My parents decided to take me piano shopping," Roderich continued. "My old one is a bit rusty and I've been wanting a grand piano at home for quite some time now. I think I'm also getting a car, which I'm rather pleased about. I passed my test last March."

Yao blinked.

"What are you doing with the others?" Roderich asked and Elizabeta nudged him.

"Oh, um... they haven't really said anything about my birthday," Yao admitted awkwardly. "But I suppose dinner at my house with just the five of us. Yeah, something a little calmer and personal."

"That would be lovely," Elizabeta smiled.

_It would be_ , Yao thought, and considered sending out some invitations quickly before weekends were booked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Feliciano Vargas** : North Italy  
>  **Kiku Honda** : Japan  
>  **Ludwig Beilschmidt** : Germany  
>  **Alfred Jones** : America  
>  **Yao Wang** : China  
>  **Arthur Kirkland** : England  
>  **Francis Bonnefoy** : France  
>  **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia
> 
> **Lovino Vargas** : South Italy  
>  **Roderich Edelstein** : Austria  
>  **Elizabeta Hédeváry** : Hungary
> 
> *Originally, he was 9 when his mother left. However, having actually worked out my timeline now, and with the events I have planned out, him being 9 really doesn't make sense.
> 
> **I'm absolutely crying with laughter. In the original, Arthur says, " _We should have careers by then_ ". Nah, mate. You're going to be studying for a _little_ bit longer.


	15. Chapter 15

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**

* * *

It was Saturday. The school week had finally ended. It had been packed for Ludwig, with stressful arrangements concerning the Talent Show, and he was just grateful to be putting his feet up at last. Just as he closed his eyes, there was a knocking at the door that awoke him.

"What do you want, Gilbert?" he knew his father would have gone to work by now.

"It's not Gilbert," his father pushed open the door and peered in.

Ludwig sat up straight and rubbed at his eyes. "Vati? What time is it?"

"Hmm, six, I was just leaving, but I found your friends on the doorsteps and have let them in," his father blinked. "The Italian and the Japanese boy?"

"Oh, Feli and Kiku," Ludwig yawned and climbed out of bed. "Why are they here so early?"

"I think they're going somewhere," his father shrugged as he left the room. "Perhaps they're saying goodbye? Either way, I have work, so have a good day."

"Thanks, Vati," Ludwig threw on a jacket over his sleepwear and tiredly walked down the stairs.

Feli and Kiku awaited him in the kitchen. Upon seeing them, Ludwig did a double take. Feli and Kiku looked like they were about to go hiking. They had massive bags leant against the table. They were dressed in walking boots, waterproof trousers, jackets, and even wore hats to shield themselves from potential sun. Feli looked like he was bouncing off his seat with excitement and Kiku offered Ludwig a shy wave.

"What's going on?" Ludwig leant against the doorway. "When did you two start this lobby?"

"It's not a hobby," Feli beamed and walked round the table. "It's your birthday."

"My birthday?"

"Yes, we bought you some presents, although you won't be able to bring them along," Kiku explained, setting little gifts on the table.

Ludwig blinked. "But where are you guys going? I'd have liked to do something with the two of you."

Feli beamed at his disappointment, which bothered him. "We have that all sorted, Ludwig. Your third birthday present is that you're coming with us!"

"Wh-what?" Ludwig stared. "But I don't have any suitable hiking gear that fits me! You should have told me about this and I'd have prepared."

"We have that sorted," Kiku offered one of his rare smiles. "Your older brother helped us with sizes and picked out a kit and bag and everything for you."

"We're going to the forest, so even got a map of the area!" Feli waved it around.

"Hey, you."

Ludwig turned and faced his brother, who had come downstairs, half asleep. He had shouldered a bag along the way and set it at Ludwig's feet.

"That's yours."

"Oh, thanks, Gil," Ludwig said, actually touched. "I had thought the pair of you would hate camping, but I guess not."

"You cannot hate something you have not tried," Kiku said enthusiastically.

"Anything is fine with me," Feli grinned.

"I put your clothes for today in your wardrobe whilst you slept," Gilbert explained.

"I'll go get ready," Ludwig nodded and ran upstairs.

It didn't take him long and a brief check told him that Gilbert had packed everything he had needed. Never had he expected Feli and Kiku to organise this for him, but he was extremely grateful for them having done so. He loved camping and the outside world. Spending the weekend with his friends in an environment like that only made him feel better.

Gilbert strangely saw them to the door. "Don't get lost," he called after them, waving with a grin.

"I'll be taking that, then," Ludwig said, and took the map from Feli's hands. "I assume we're driving to our starting point, though?"

* * *

**Yao Wang**

* * *

The sun shone in through his window at then that morning. He was a little disgruntled that almost half the day was gone, but believed it better than the usual five thirty wakeup call his mother gave in order to give him a healthy, active mind. He stretched and lay in bed for another ten minutes or so, before finally dragging himself from bed and slumping in front of his homework desk to check his phone.

It was his birthday. It was the one time in the whole year that he could act like the unemployed.

There was an extremely long text sent by Alfred about half an hour ago. He opened that up and noted it was some kind of outline of what he would do in the day. Yao's brows furrowed. He was sure that all his friends had claimed to be busy during the week when he'd mentioned plans for the weekend; now he was receiving orders from them?

Moodily, he began to read the text, and could hear Alfred's voice in his ear as he did so.

"Hey, Dude! Happy Birthday! Although it's about to get a hell of a lot happier!" Yao felt like he was reading a text from Ned Flanders. "I know you're out in Chinatown on Sunday, so this is the best time for me to say this. We've organised something for you to do with us today-" This was followed by a winking face, but Yao was unable to vocalise that in his head. "-It's nothing huge. A dinner out and then a super cool surprise to end the day. We'll let you have a line in (since that's what b-days are all about)-" Yao assumed Alfred wasn't referring to the piece of bathroom furniture. "-but you better be ready dude when I come trucking up your place at six thirty!!!-" It was clear that Arthur hadn't written this text, given the three exclamation marks. "-Your eighteenth is gonna rock!"

Yao cautiously replied "OK". He wonder what Alfred's "super cool surprise to end the day" was. Some part of him was especially pleased that his friends had gone out of their way to organise a birthday for him. That was probably why they'd become strangely elusive with their weekend "plans". Yao smiled to himself. It was even better that Alfred said "we've organised something for you", emphasis on " _we've_ ". It was his personal belief that Alfred's idea of a birthday party would be too wild for him.

He ran downstairs to tell his mother about what he had planned. He was trying to fend off his excitement, but a surprise was just too much for him. He was eighteen, but suddenly felt eight. It was great.

* * *

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**

* * *

The trees hung over their heads as they tucked into a satisfying lunch at one in the afternoon. Plenty of snacks had been enjoyed along the way, and they were eating a carb filled potato lunch that Gilbert had carefully packed. All three were greatly enjoying the food.

"Camping isn't bad at all," Kiku said. "I actually really like it."

"I love how releasing it is," Ludwig sighed and glanced upwards at the swaying trees. "I'd even say this is the best time of year to go. It's not too hot like it would be in summer, so you don't need to pack as much water and it's just dry enough that wet weather isn't as much an imminent threat as it would be in the spring."

"You sure know a lot about camping, Ludwig," Feli commented.

Ludwig nodded. "I used to go loads of times during the year. Never to this forest, though, which is good, because new places are better."

"I'm really glad you like it," Feli admitted. "I was worried you might not and that we'd ruined your birthday or something."

Ludwig chuckled. "No, I actually love this."

"Naturally, we did a little research just as a precaution to prevent us getting lost," Kiku added. "This forest is very big. We should expect to eat dinner in a clearing specifically designed for campers such as ourselves."

"This reminds me of D of E*," Feli smiled sleepily.

"You didn't do D of E," Ludwig said.

"Oh, yeah, but I saw some pictures," he replied. "Does that count?"

"Not really, Feli," Ludwig chuckled.

"Anyway, the clearing should be straight along the main road, until we find a wide footpath, according to the map," Kiku continued. "Currently, I think we're on the right track."

Ludwig briefly consulted the map and nodded in confirmation. "I believe it seems right to me."

* * *

**Yao Wang**

* * *

He was seated in a circle with the others. Currently, he had eaten a satisfying meal, a starter and a main, for which the other four had insisted they would pay the entire bill. This eating out surprise really had made Yao's day. Alfred was expressing some kind of excitement, whereas Francis seemed nervous when he thought he wasn't being watched, only to smile pleasantly when he was. Other than that, the mood was generally fine and actually enjoyable.

Alfred turned in his chair and grinned as a waiter was approaching. Yao craned his head and saw they were holding a cake. It was dressed in elaborate white icing and had eighteen candles delicately placed in symmetry. Yao felt a blush rise to his face. They had done all of this for him? He couldn't keep a smile from forming as the cake was placed in the centre of the table.

"Oh, wow," he said.

"Three, two, one," Alfred counted and Yao's friends all chorused the 'Happy Birthday' song.

He twitched in his seat, and blew out all eighteen of his candles as they cheered the arrival of the song's end.

Alfred, who sat to his right, patted him on the shoulder with a grin. "Happy Birthday, dude. It must be great to be eighteen, right?"

Yao laughed. "It feels the same. I don't think anything's changed."

"Well, you  _definitely_ didn't get taller," Ivan smiled.

"Hey, don't make me ban you from eating the cake," Yao grinned as he lowered the knife into the cake's spongy mass, making the first slice.

He was surprised and delighted, to see it was a chocolate cake. Yao provided each and every friend with a slice and they dined on cake. It wasn't too rich, which was great for a chocolate cake, and the delicate creaminess of the icing only made the cake better. Yao thoroughly enjoyed his cake. They finished their drinks.

"Should I make a speech to commemorate me turning eighteen?" Yao reached for his already empty glass, preparing to ask for a refill.

"Wait, wait, dude, your birthday's not over," Alfred grabbed his wrist before anything happened. "Remember that surprise I was telling you about?"

"What?" Yao blinked. "The cake wasn't it?"

"No, no way, the surprise is  _way_ better," Alfred stood and walked behind Yao's chair. "It'll totally complete your birthday party."

Yao frowned and tried turning, when Alfred suddenly put a blindfold over his eyes.

"What are you doing?" he protested.

"It's the surprise, Yao, just wait and see," Alfred explained. "I have my headphones and music, so I'll just be putting them in your ears."

"Why?" Yao smiled. "So I can't hear?"

"That's right, dude," Alfred said, putting the headphones in Yao's ears. "Just sit back and en-"

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by odd eighties music,** but Yao accepted that completely. He allowed Alfred to help him up by the elbow and guide him along. He wasn't sure but, beneath the playing music, he may have heard Alfred's loud laughter and Arthur saying "wanker", but he couldn't tell. Either way, his confidence in his current position dramatically dipped and he began to worry a little about where he was being taken.

* * *

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**

* * *

They trudged through a damp forest. Rain had started falling and although they had their rain gear on, it was still unpleasantly cold when the odd drop escaped through his sleeve onto his wrist, or landed brutally on his face. Ludwig kept consulting the map with the red line Kiku and Feli had plotted out that led to their supposed destination. They were supposed to have reached the camp by now. It was already seven and they were still wandering.

"I'm really hungry," Feli complained. "As well as cold and uncomfortable."

"It should be fine," Ludwig muttered. "Although, I honestly can't say anything better for this map. If we walk any further, we'd have moved beyond the clearing."

"Allow me to see the map," Kiku said, walking beside him. "I'm sure myself and Feli drew the plan, is that correct?"

Ludwig handed it to him and awaited his reply. He received a small shrug and the map was given back to him.

"I think we shall just have to make camp in this area," he stopped and turned to them. "I know it's not ideal, but we can sort everything out tomorrow when we're well rested and have something in our stomachs."

"Sounds good to me," Feli yawned and the three of them started preparing their little campsite beneath the trees and the pattering rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ludwig Beilschmidt** : Germany  
>  **Feliciano Vargas** : North Italy  
>  **Kiku Honda** : Japan  
>  **Yao Wang** : China  
>  **Alfred Jones** : America  
>  **Francis Bonnefoy** : France  
>  **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia  
>  **Arthur Kirkland** : England
> 
> **Gilbert Beilschmidt** : Prussia
> 
> *Duke of Edinburgh. It's a UK thing with three levels of difficulty: Bronze, a two day hike through the woods during Year 10 (Grade 9); Silver, a four day hike during Year 11 (Grade 10); and Gold, a seven day hike across the Welsh hills during Year 12 (Grade 11). I only did bronze, aha.
> 
> **I have this random headcanon that Alfred loves 80s hits.


	16. Chapter 16

**Yao Wang**

* * *

Alfred's taste of music was not to his liking, but his friend insisted he keep the loud trash playing. He was bustled into a car by Alfred and forced to sit. This felt more like a kidnapping rather than a birthday party, but he had to go with it, otherwise he may hurt Alfred's feelings and he didn't want to do that, not when his friends had planned this for him.

The car came to a slow and gradual stop and he was guided down from the car with the help of Alfred. He couldn't ear or see anything, but there was a smell in the air that he wasn't sure about. It resembled a mixture of sweat, booze and tobacco, which worried him. Where had Alfred brought him?

There was a long pause where nothing seemed to happen and then he was moving again, only to stop once more. A queue? What were they queuing for? He felt himself walking and stopping, and walking and stopping. Although he tried asking, he couldn't hear himself or anyone else's reply. It didn't help that it was raining. They were under some kind of shelter, but the odd droplet kept touching his hand.

There was another pause and then the rain was gone and everything became much warmer. Yao could feel an odd thrum that passed through his entire body, like a loud beating of his heart. Wherever they were, it was indoors. Alfred took the headphones from his ears. The old style eighties tunes were instantly replaced by an insistent, loud bass drum. Yao's heart sank as Alfred lifted the blindfold from his eyes to reveal lights and people dancing and a DJ and everything he hated. A club.

"What the hell?" he blurted aloud, unable to wipe the horror from his face.

"I knew he'd hate this," Arthur shook his head.

"Wait, dude, wait, just listen," Alfred begged. "This can be a  _super_ awesome party. I promise you that you'll be enjoying yourself by the end of the night."

"I swear to God, Alfred, and God will be on my side if my mother's correct*, that you have made a  _mistake_ in bringing me here, aru," Yao snapped. "I would have been completely content to just finish with the dinner. What were you thinking?"

"Dude, let me get you a drink," Alfred begged. "We're here to have fun."

"No," Yao shook his head. "I will not let my guard down in this  _unsafe_ place, aru."

"This just got awkward," Arthur groaned. "Who wants to come to the bar with me?"

"Me," Ivan said and Francis nodded as well.

"Wait, Ivan, you can't just abandon me," Yao gaped. "You're usually the one who sides with me. We can't stay here."

"I like a drink every now and then," Ivan shrugged.

"You guys aren't even eighteen," Yao said.

Alfred clamped a hand over his mouth and started dragging him along to the bar. Yao pulled himself away whilst the other three retreated into the crowd.

"Wait, how did you even get in, aru?" he asked.

"Yao, come on, dude," Alfred smiled proudly.

"You used  _fake ID_ s?" Yao stared, horrified. "We're going to get arrested. My parents will disown me and all our family friends will see me as the child that went wrong."

"You're overreacting," Alfred said uncomfortably. "People do this all the time. Just have a drink. I'll stay with you the entire night if it makes you feel better?"

"It's not that I'm nervous," Yao replied. "I just don't like breaking the law."

"It wasn't like it was your idea," Alfred said. "It was mine."

"That doesn't make this  _any_ better."

Alfred sighed impatiently and glanced at him awkwardly. "You can't possibly hate it that much? If you try to enjoy it, you'll find that you'll like it. Just  _try_ , Yao."

"I feel like you've done this before," Yao looked around uncomfortably at the party-goers. "If you pay for everything I get, I may consider doing this, aru."

"Fine, whatever, it's your birthday," Alfred said and started clearing a way through the crowd.

Yao swiftly followed, not wanting to be left behind and lost to all the people that surrounded him.

"Kiku would have a heart attack if he were here," he muttered to himself.

* * *

**Kiku Honda**

* * *

He sneezed, despite his efforts to hold it in. He felt the other two stir. They'd set up their tent, for which they were sharing, and somehow he'd ended up in the middle. He liked personal space; this completely defied that, which only made his experience less enjoyable.

He could hear the pattering of rain above, landing on their tent, and tracks of water were running down the side. He wore all his jumpers to keep himself warm, as temperatures had rapidly dropped during the night. He was only being maintained by the body warmth of Feli and Ludwig.

"Someone must be talking about you," Feli yawned and he smiled.

"I'm taking it you two were awake as well, then?" Ludwig asked sleepily.

"Yeah," Feli sighed. "I can't really sleep with the rain."

"It's kind of relaxing, though," Kiku admitted.

"We really are lost, aren't we?" Feli asked.

Ludwig turned on his phone and checked its status. "No signal. We really might be a little stranded. My best advice would be to turn back."

"But there was a super nice town at the end of the route where we intended to have lunch," Feli murmured. "It was supposed to be the perfect end to the day. What if we never get out of here?"

"Of course we will," Ludwig said. "Just try and get some sleep. We'll need a lot of energy for tomorrow."

Kiku glanced at the map one more time before attempting to sleep. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't place  _what_. He checked each point, but they'd met each and every one of them. Setting the map aside, he closed his eyes and embraced the sound of the rain on the tent.

* * *

**Ivan Braginsky**

* * *

"You can really take your drink," Arthur smiled happily and lazily.

Ivan had taken today to confirm that Arthur was extremely amusing when drunk. It had been Arthur's decision to initiate a drinking contest between the two of them. Ivan had an incredible capacity to be able to drink a tonne, but he'd left that out of the conversation, because it was more fun to watch Arthur sink into the euphoria of alcohol. Francis had, at some point, disappeared to the dance floor with the attractive brunette he'd been speaking with.

"However, I'm not done yet," Arthur prattled on. "Get us another shot. I can do it."

"Alright, then," Ivan turned to the bar and ordered another two shots of vodka.

He turned back to the seat when the barman slid their shots across and saw Arthur was missing from the spot where he'd been standing, and nowhere within sight.

"Oh?" he glanced around, confused. "Arthur?"

But his friend was actually gone. He frowned, worried.

* * *

**Alfred Jones**

* * *

He was sorely disappointed that Yao was not impressed with the club. He'd thought that it would liven him up a little, but after one drink, Yao had wanted to take a breather, and he'd accompanied him. They stood, side by side, looking up at the distant stars from their shelter from the rain.

"I honestly thought you'd like it a little more than you do," Alfred sighed and watched Yao sip his drink.

"Hey, you tried," Yao admitted. "I appreciate you doing this for me, aru."

"It could've gone better," Alfred replied.

"Maybe I'll organise a tour of the science museum for your surprise birthday," Yao replied and shot him a smile when Alfred grimaced at the sound of that.

"Happy eighteenth," Alfred said.

"Cheers to that," Yao raised his plastic up and touched it to Alfred's.

* * *

**Arthur Kirkland**

* * *

Arthur had seen the beautiful, blonde goddess beckon and had instantly stood to investigate. She had stood at the edge of the crowd of dancers, smiling and motioning for him to come over. Whilst Ivan was a nice guy and a good friend, he didn't have the same charm this woman had.

She was tall, almost the same height as Arthur in heels, and had opted for a red dress Arthur couldn't pull his eyes away from. He had never been one for dancing, but there was a pull that had brought him over to her and falling into moving to the beat.

He liked looking at her. Her blonde hair looked soft, she had such bright blue eyes, nice smiling lips and her legs were amazing. He usually tried to avoid artificial appreciation, but she was so beautiful that he could barely look away from her. More importantly, she had seen  _him_ and had wanted to dance with  _him_. She had chosen  _him_ over all other men in the club. She had already made him feel important and he didn't even know her name.

"So..." he slurred. "What's your name?"

"Oh, British**, nice," she purred. "I love the accent."

"What can I say?" Arthur couldn't help but absorb the compliment. "I  _am_ rather well-spoken."

"I haven't seen you here before," she added. "I like a bit of dancing every now and then, but sometimes you see a few familiar faces."

"Eh, first time here," he replied, and then suddenly wanted to impress her. "I usually got to the city, but my friend's having a birthday party and we thought we'd check this place out."

"Oh, nice, which birthday?" she was leaning in close to speak with him, and he could smell her fruity perfume.

Arthur didn't want to be too young for her. Seventeen definitely would be, and his fake ID made him twenty. He didn't want to seem too old, and she would probably estimate his age based on his friend's age. There was no harm in lying... Francis had probably done that to the older woman he'd been with. Judging by this woman, she couldn't have been more than her mid-twenties.

"Twenty-fourth," he replied.

"Happy birthday to your friend," she said, red lips curving into a pretty smile. "You're a nice guy."

She was talking into his ear, but now she turned around, her body pressed against his. He responded by draping his arms around her waist. This was  _definitely_ better than remaining at the bar with Ivan.

* * *

**Francis Bonnefoy**

* * *

Francis was dancing with the brunette. Her name was Jessica and she worked in a spa, specialising in manicures and massages. She was small and slight, just about reaching his chin, and a had a warm smile on her face as they talked and danced. She was here with her friends enjoying a night out because her friend had managed to get a good job in a news office to work as a journalist. Her friend was going to fly to Malaysia next week, so this was the chance to hang out before that. Francis had met a couple of them and thought they had been nice as well.

There was a tap on his shoulder and he turned to see Ivan looking worried. Jessica admired Ivan for a moment. Although that briefly disappointed Francis, he knew they would never see one another again, and that she was perfectly entitled to check out whoever she liked. However, Ivan looked worried, and Francis was always one for concerning for his friends over people he had just met.

"What is it?" he asked, frowning.

"It's Arthur," Ivan panicked. "He disappeared."

"He probably went to the toilet, Ivan," Francis smiled. "However, Arthur can manage himself."

"Usually, I would agree with you, but he was seriously pissed," Ivan winced. "We were having a drinking competition and he kept insisting he could continue and he was kind of funny, so who was I to say no, da?"

Francis thought of the implications of a drunk Arthur roaming a club. It was like a private school boy in a Poundland. It just didn't work. He was doomed. Francis looked apologetically to Jessica, who shrugged and turned away to find someone else. He followed Ian back to the bar where Arthur had last been seen and tried to look out for his halo of strawberry blonde hair***.

However, Arthur was nowhere to be seen as the clocks struck midnight.

* * *

**Alfred Jones**

* * *

He and Yao headed indoors. As they passed through the door, Alfred shouldered an extremely beautiful blonde woman. He passed a glance as she disappeared round the corner.

"Was that... Arthur?" Yao asked, trying to look.

"Nah, he could never catch a babe like that," Alfred laughed and guided him away from the door.

* * *

**Arthur Kirkland**

* * *

The rain fell down over his shoulders, drenching his clothes and soaking him to the bone. However, he barely felt it, let alone noticed it was raining opposed to just being cold and wet.

"My car's just around this corner," the blonde explained, holding his hand as she led him along. "My place isn't too far. We can take off these wet clothes and dry off under the covers."

That last part was added with a wink. Arthur just smiled, nodded, agreeing with her, regardless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Yao Wang** : China  
>  **Alfred Jones** : America  
>  **Arthur Kirkland** : England  
>  **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia  
>  **Francis Bonnefoy** : France  
>  **Kiku Honda** : Japan  
>  **Feliciano Vargas** : North Italy  
>  **Ludwig Beilschmidt** : Germany
> 
> *Around 75% of people in China are atheist, or believe in local religions. 3% are Christian. Yao himself is atheist, but I can see his parents, who travelled over to the west, having become Christian and rather liking it. In this fic, I can imagine him having quite a Christian upbringing. I'm not entirely sure _why_ this popped up in my head, but it did. I have a Catholic friend who does mention God when it gets a little convenient, aha, and for some reason, this reminded me of something Yao might do.
> 
> **Another reason that changing World Academy's location to a liminal state across the world made much more sense than making it near London, like originally planned. Why would someone from England be impressed with a British accent? It made no sense, but if the location isn't England, then it makes more sense.
> 
> ***In the later seasons of the anime, Arthur's hair seems a little more rosy than Francis and Alfred's, so I like to think of him either as having rose blonde or strawberry blonde hair.


	17. Chapter 17

**Alfred Jones**

* * *

They stopped at the bar and put the glasses aside. There was no sign of any of the others. Alfred was just about to start speaking when he felt a buzzing in the pocket of his jeans. He fished out his phone and held it to his ear, blocking the other one to drown the music out. On the other end of the line, he heard Francis and Ivan speaking desperately, their words blurring into one mess. He could barely make out what they were saying. The music was too loud.

Shaking his head at Yao, he then said, "I can't hear you two. I'll just head outside."

Making his way through the crowd with Yao not far behind, Alfred kept the phone to his ear, still hearing desperate words.

"What's going on?" Yao asked, but Alfred could only offer him a shrug in response.

They broke away from the club and saw Ivan and Francis standing outside beneath shelter.

Alfred hung up and frowned. "What are you two doing out here?"

Francis raised his head and looked relieved. "Alfred, we don't know where Arthur is."

"Arthur should be alright," Alfred said. "Have you tried calling him like you did to me just now?"

"Well, no, he's hammered," Francis admitted. "That was off-putting from the start."

"Try it now," Alfred rolled his eyes. "No, better yet.  _I'll_ call him."

The other three watched as he scrolled through his contacts and selected Arthur's number. He lifted the phone to his ear and waited.

* * *

**Arthur Kirkland**

* * *

They were nearing the corner, just when his phone started ringing. Rummaging through his pocket as they ran, he looked at the screen to see Alfred's name.

"Oh, hang on," he mumbled, moving his thumb across to answer.

The blonde suddenly stopped and kissed him. Arthur had seen all sorts of romantic movies where couples made out in the rain, but he had never dreamt that would happen to him. She slid her hand down his arm and took his phone from his hand.

"You won't be needing this," she whispered, holding it up as if giving him instructions.

Arthur found himself shrugging. "Fine by me."

He watched her turn it off and they continued round the corner.

* * *

**Ivan Braginsky**

* * *

Ivan watched as Alfred lowered the phone from his ear and looked at it, a concerned expression on his face.

"What?" he approached. "What is it?"

"It rang, and then just stopped," Alfred pursed his lips. "As in, it was on, ringing, but then it cut off."

Ivan grabbed his shoulders and started shaking him. "This is all my fault! I should never have let him drink that much. I've effectively  _killed_ Arthur! He's probably been mugged and murdered and we won't know until tomorrow morning when they find his body in the river. I won't be able to live with myself if that happens. He has a way younger brother, doesn't he? How will I be able to look poor little Peter in the eye with the full knowledge that  _I_ had sent his brother to his  _grave_?"

"Dude, just stop," Alfred pried his hands away from his shoulders and gripped his arms. "Just take a chill pill and calm the fuck down. You haven't killed Arthur. He's probably just found a chick he likes and... wait a second."

Yao heaved out a laugh. "It  _was_ Arthur, aru. I told you so!"

"Wait, what?" Francis looked confused.

"Oh, geez...  _wow_ ," Alfred ran a hand through his hair. "I'd never have guessed."

"What is it?" Ivan asked impatiently, hoping he hadn't killed Arthur.

"Well, as we were coming back inside, we passed a blonde babe with a guy Yao thought was Arthur," Alfred explained. "I didn't believe him so kept us going, but I guess it was him after all..."

" _Arthur_?" Francis blinked. "With a  _woman_?"

Alfred chuckled. "That's probably why he turned off his phone."

"Or maybe  _she_ turned it off so she could  _kill_ him," Ivan worried.

"What is it with you and murder, dude?" Alfred laughed. "Arthur will be more than fine. Let's leave him to his own  _devices_."

"Are you sure, aru?" Yao frowned. "I feel as if we're bad friends if we just leave him."

"I think he'd  _rather_ we leave him," Francis mumbled thoughtfully and then shrugged. "However, I am ready to call it a night."

"It's not like we can do much else," Alfred sighed. "It's still raining."

"I actually have an idea, aru," Yao smiled. "May I have the keys to your car?*"

"My car?" Alfred looked surprised. "Sure."

Yao took the keys and started walking along.

"Hey, where are you going?" Alfred asked.

"Follow me, aru," Yao replied. "I'm going to your car."

* * *

**Arthur Kirkland**

* * *

They slowed from their brisk walk as they neared an expensive looking vehicle. Suddenly, a gunshot ripped through the air. Arthur turned his head, just as the blonde ducked behind her car, pulling him down with her.

"What's going on?" he asked, indignant that a gang war would now potentially ruin the night he lost his virginity.

"I don't know," the blonde fretted, blue eyes wide.

Arthur stood shakily to peer over the edge of the car, whilst his temporary love interest glanced at him in slight admiration. He saw a man run into the scene, seemingly to search the area, before aiming a gun into the dark depths of the rain and firing.

The man looked familiar. He had dark hair and was dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and a black bow tie. His suit jacket was open. Arthur thought he recognised him.

There were shouts from the distance, followed by the sound of a car pulling away. Arthur glanced at his temporary love interest to see her looking around for danger. He looked back at the man and walked out from behind the car.

"You there!" he called. "You saved us back there, good chap!"

The man turned and did a double take. "Mr  _Kirkland_?"

Arthur squinted and tried to place the man's face.

"Arthur Kirkland?" the man took a couple of steps forward. "Is that you?"

"You know my name," Arthur stated as the man approached him.

"Of course I do," the man replied and then narrowed his gaze as he neared him. "Have you been drinking?"

"I can drink," Arthur protested. "Who are you? I don't think I-"

Suddenly, the voice of the man clicked into place deep within Arthur's mind, and a recollection returned him like a whim. He gasped a raised a finger to point.

"Mr Vurkel?" he gawked. "Mr Vurkel without  _glasses_? What are you doing here?"

* * *

**Yao Wang**

* * *

He drove them all to his house, where he sat them down at the kitchen table and made them all traditional green tea. It was quiet, which meant his parents were probably asleep, but he knew they'd be fine with him having his friends round today. This was what he'd originally imagined his birthday would be like. The only difference was that they were all soaking wet and aware that Arthur was probably having the time of his life elsewhere...

"I never thought Arthur would be the next of us to get laid," Alfred sighed.

"I never thought he'd  _get_ laid until he was at least in his mid to late twenties, aru," Yao snorted.

Alfred nodded in response and then glanced at Ivan. "He could never have done it without you. Bear in mind that you are  _sole_ initiator of Arthur's sex life."

"That might not be a good thing," Ivan still looked anxious.

Yao wanted to cheer his friend up, but he seemed able to deflect every positive and turned it into a negative. It was miraculous, to an extent, but Yao just had to accept that Ivan was a bit of a pessimist.

"How come you didn't get completely wasted as well?" Alfred asked. "Weren't you having a drinking competition?"

"I can take my drink," Ivan replied. "Arthur can't."

"I'm learning  _a lot_ of new things about you," Alfred remarked. "And I think I like the drummer side of Ivan that could drink a whole bottle of ethanol and still walk in a straight line."

"All we're saying is that there's no need to worry about Arthur," Francis replied. "He's actually a lamenting drunk, which can be a complete put-off. If anything, it's worse for the  _girl_ to end up in bed with Arthur."

Yao laughed. "She'll wake up and think ' _Shit_! How did I manage to sleep with  _this_ guy? I could do way better', aru."

"She was pretty hot as well," Alfred noted.

THis was what Yao had wanted. He had wanted a peaceful tea and dinner round a table with his friends. Whilst it was sad that Arthur wasn't there, it was good to see Ivan crack a smile at last from their comments.

"I didn't see her," Francis sighed. "I wish I had, what with the way you two are droning on about her."

"Usually, I'm more of the reserved type, but I actually think Arthur's  _seriously_ lucky, aru," Yao agreed.

"Who do you think will be next?" Francis chuckled. "Out of the three of you, I'd hedge my bet on Ivan."

"What?" Ivan frowned, his cheeks turning pink. "Why me?"

"Because these two won't have a  _girlfriend_ until a lot later," Francis snickered. "Yao's right when he says he's reserved. I'd have put him originally as just before Arthur in the order of our sex lives. And Alfred? Guys like you will  _always_ have a hard time getting the girls."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alfred frowned.

"You're very open and you wear your heart on your sleeve," Francis smiled. "That's why, when the right girl  _does_ come, she'll truly treasure that value of yours."

"I mean, thanks, dude, but I honestly think I'll be next," Alfred said with great confidence.

"It won't be me," Ivan had started looking into his cup nervously. "I'm too shy to even talk to girls, really..."

"You'll get more confident as you grow older," Francis patted his hand comfortingly.

"You think so?" Ivan looked thoughtful. "I just know that, if I walk a girl in through the door, my family won't accept her."

"Don't say that, Ivan," Francis looked sympathetic. "Besides, if you really like a girl, what's wrong with being with her, no matter what family say?"

"Eh, nothing," Ivan said dismissively. "I hope Arthur's OK."

Yao could tell that Ivan wanted to change the subject away from the one thing he rarely spoke about: his family.

"He'll be fine, aru," he responded.

* * *

**Feliciano Vargas**

* * *

There was a buzzing noise. Instantly, he was alert and awake, looking around their tent. It sounded like a deep noise, dangerous and close. He grabbed the map for defence.

"Do you hear that, guys?" he worried, terrified.

"It's just a fly, Feli," Ludwig yawned. "Get some sleep, otherwise you'll be tired tomorrow."

"But it sounds so close," Feli shivered. "I think it's in the tent."

"It's a fly," Kiku murmured, half asleep.

Feli pulled on his boots. "It's in the tent, whatever it is."

"Do we really have to do this now," Ludwig looked agitated as he half rolled over, sending Feli an ice blue stare.

"Ludwig, I'm  _scared_ ," Feli panicked. "I need to see what's out there."

He leapt up and left the tent to investigate. It was bitterly cold, a eerie wind brushing past him, whispering away into the trees. The further he got from the tent, the more distant the buzzing became. Feli returned.

"It's in the tent," he said, as the fly, or whatever it was, lapsed into a sudden silence.

No one answered. His friends were already asleep again. Feli frowned, aware of how dark the woods were around him, when he heard a strange noise behind him. He whipped around, seeing something move in the shadows. On instinct, his heart racing, he lobbed whatever he was holding. A bird flapped out of the bushes and the map fell down into a puddle at the base of an old oak's trunk. Feli looked dismayed and picked up the sodden map. Whilst the map itself had been laminated with a thin sheet of plastic, the ink had run down its surface, blurring the way they were heading and entirely blotting out the way they'd come from.

"They won't need to know about this until tomorrow morning," Feli murmured to himself, wiping the map on his coat and retreating back inside the tent.

He then noticed his phone beside the head of his sleeping bag. He looked at it and saw it had buzzed to alert him of low battery. Grimacing, he turned it off and put it aside. He should've really charged it before leaving...

* * *

**Arthur Kirkland**

* * *

He stood up straight to assess the man who had carried him through his English studies for as long as he could remember.

"I don't understand," Arthur wailed. "Why did you leave? You were one of the best English teachers I've ever known, Mr Vurkel!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Alfred Jones** : America  
>  **Yao Wang** : China  
>  **Francis Bonnefoy** : France  
>  **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia  
>  **Arthur Kirkland** : England  
>  **Feliciano Vargas** : North Italy  
>  **Ludwig Beilschmidt** : Germany  
>  **Kiku Honda** : Japan
> 
> * _Do not drink and drive, kids._ It's not safe and it doesn't make you cool.


	18. Chapter 18

**Arthur Kirkland**

* * *

"I can't believe this," Arthur murmured as Mr Vurkel approached, pushing his gun into his belt with an anxious expression on his face. "It's  _actually_ you.  _And_ you have an illegal gun."

"This is extremely inconvenient..." Mr Vurkel groaned. "Are you OK, Miss?"

Arthur's temporary love interest nodded shakily. The rain was still falling around them in sheets. Mr Vurkel sighed and turned Arthur around.

"Mr Kirkland here would just like to apologise to you in advance for having lied about his real age," Mr Vurkel explained. "By the look on your face, you were wondering why he was talking about school. He's a seventeen year old student who has, I would assume, effectively used fake ID to gain entry into the club in which you two met. He's drank too much and would probably prefer to be in a clearer state of mind when making decisions such as that."

She stared at Arthur. "You're only  _seventeen_?"

Arthur at least had the decency to appear guilty. He knew, deep down, that he was in the wrong, but the idea of the blonde before him had put his mind into a drunken frenzy of possibility.

"I'm very sorry," he said, sounding almost childish as he did so under Mr Vurkel's instruction. "I lied, yes, but that's because I thought-"

"You didn't  _think_ anything," Mr Vurkel rolled his eyes. "Are you able to safely get yourself home?"

That was directed to the blonde, who nodded cautiously, glancing towards Arthur and then back at Mr Vurkel.

"That's good, because I need to get this punk home," his teacher muttered. "Sorry for his behaviour once more. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night."

The blonde stood, staring dumbfounded, as Mr Vurkel began to guide Arthur away, further down across the parking lot. He heard the slam of a car door and the wheels of the car drive swiftly away.

He turned his head to Mr Vurkel. "What are you doing? I was probably going to sleep with her!"

"That's exactly the  _point_ , Arthur," Mr Vurkel scolded. "You're in a right state. I bet you probably don't even remember your way back to the club."

"Um, it's..." Arthur looked all around, but everywhere looked the same.

Mr Vurkel took him to his car and opened the passenger door, hurrying Arthur into the car. He himself sat in the driver's seat and turned on his GPS device. 

"Where do you live?" he asked.

Numbly, Arthur told him his postcode, despite the consequences this would face.

"Where did you go, Mr Vurkel?" he asked. "I used to love English so much. I suppose I still do, but I think you've always been the best teacher ever."

"Really?" Mr Vurkel didn't sound interested, his eyes on the road as he drove.

"Feliks told me left because you were fired," Arthur murmured, leaning his head against the window that had streams of water rolling down it. "He said it was because you had a relationship with a student. Basch, to be precise."

"For starters, Feliks is wrong," Mr Vurkel grumbled. "And secondly, why Basch?"

"You didn't have a relationship with a student?" Arthur smiled to himself. "That's good..."

"Look, Arthur, there's probably no need to tell you this, but please just forget about us meeting," Mr Vurkel sighed. "It's a chance encounter."

"Why did you leave World Academy?" Arthur ignored him, because his head was filled with cotton and he wanted his questions answered. "Why did you leave English class?"

"I found a different job," Mr Vurkel replied.

"I suppose you would have other English classes," Arthur grumbled moodily. "English classes that are much  _better behaved_ than us. English classes that  _understand_ what you teach them. English classes that pay more..."

"Maybe phrase it a different way," Mr Vurkel sounded uncomfortable. "You're nearly home."

"That's good, Mr Vurkel," Arthur yawned. "I wonder what happened to Ivan. I hope he's not too sad that I left him for the blonde girl..."

" _Ivan_ was at the club, too?" Mr Vurkel sounded indignant. "And you left him there  _alone_?"

"Technically, no," Arthur said pointedly. "Alfred, Yao and Francis are all there with him, but they were elsewhere in the club. So, it  _could_ be considered that, yes, I did leave him on his own, but he's not there  _alone_."

Mr Vurkel parked before his house and stared at him in disbelief. "Why are the five of you out clubbing?"

"It's Yao's birthday," Arthur replied. "He turned eighteen today, so Alfred wanted to show him a good time."

"Of course," Mr Vurkel sighed. "So, four of you illegally attended a club. I assume you managed to cheat the ID system?"

"We left that all to Alfred," Arthur pondered. "To be perfectly honest, I'm not entirely sure how he did it. I'll just say that he's a bit of a genius when it comes to getting past the systems they set up to stop us young adults having loads of fun."

"No, he recklessly breaks the law that protects young adults who could make potentially stupid mistakes when they stop using their minds and instead use their bodies," Mr Vurkel sighed. "Get out of the car. You're home."

Tiredly, Arthur opened the car door and clumsily stumbled away from the vehicle. Mr Vurkel stepped out of his car in a professional manner and closed both car doors before clicking the lock button.

"Are you going to teach us English again?" Arthur asked miserably, as Mr Vurkel guided him towards the front door. "Miss Morbrey's nice, but she's not you."

"Give your new teacher a break, Arthur," Mr Vurkel sighed and rang the doorbell. "Because I won't be coming back. I have a new job."

"I thought so," Arthur murmured to himself, just as his father sleepily answered the door. "I really thought so."

"Arthur?" his father blinked in surprise. "What on earth is going on?"

"I found him wandering around in the rain," Mr Vurkel explained. "I recall he was a student, so thought it best to return him home. I think he's alright."

"Have you been drinking?" his father demanded.

Arthur blinked slowly as realisation dawned upon him. "Oh, shit. Wait, Mr Vurkel, I actually want to return home, right now."

"It's too late for that," his father scolded. "Get inside. Thank you very much for bringing him home..."

"Not a problem, but I really must dash, now," Mr Vurkel rubbed at his ear awkwardly whilst backing down the pathway towards his car. "Goodbye."

"You were the best teacher until this moment, Mr Vurkel," Arthur drunkenly lamented whilst his father sighed and pulled him indoors.

* * *

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**

* * *

He awoke to the beams of light that reflected against the tent's surface. The other two were still sound asleep, but he was up. He rolled over carefully, pulled on his walking boots and took a stroll outside. The weather was cool and crisp, but the sun was out and that was what mattered after the appalling weather of the previous night. There was also a slight breeze and the birds chattered in their morning routine of social gossip and light hearted conversation. He breathed in the air and felt better for doing so.

It was not long after that Kiku awoke when he had started cooking their breakfast, which would be plain porridge with a little dash of honey added to give it flavour.

"Good morning," Kiku yawned and crouched beside him. "It's a nice day. Did you sleep well?"

"When Feli stopped freaking out over an imaginary fly, yes, I slept fine," Ludwig chuckled. "I didn't think he'd like camping."

He watched Kiku nod quietly in response. Ludwig had a gut feeling that neither of his friends knew what camping would actually be like. He also had a feeling that neither of them particularly enjoyed it.

"I think we should take another look at the map, just to make sure we didn't take a wrong turn," Kiku suggested.

"Where is it?" Ludwig asked.

"Hmm, it was between Feli and I," Kiku glanced towards the tent. "I'll take a quick look for it now, and if all goes wrong, we can plot a new route and take that one instead."

"I agree, so long as we can find ourselves on the map," Ludwig said. "Wake up Feli as well, so that he can eat."

Kiku nodded and approached their tent. Ludwig turned his attention back to the porridge and doled out a portion for the three of them into a bowl each. He warmed his hands by the pots and gas burner, before switching it off and waiting for Kiku to come out. When his friends appeared from the tent, Feli looking forlorn and Kiku mildly irritated, although he was trying to hide it.

"What is it?" Ludwig asked, frowning.

"I'm sorry, Ludwig," Feli burst out. "I didn't mean to! It just happened!"

"What just happened?" he started to worry now, as Kiku picked up a bowl and sat aside to eat.

"I was just trying to kill that stupid fly, but it turned out to be my phone, anyway," Feli wept, sitting near Ludwig, who couldn't understand what he was so stressed about. "I went outside and tried to look around for the buzzing and a bird scared me! I didn't know what to do, so I threw the only weapon I had because I didn't know what it was and I was acting instinct, I swear! I've been so stupid, Lud, and now we'll never get home!"

"Feli, whatever you've done, I'm sure it was a mistake," Ludwig frowned. "Now, what are you trying to tell me? Have a bowl of porridge and add as much honey as you like."

Feli picked up a bowl and started dumping honey into the flavourless oats. "I threw the map at the bird."

"Did you hit the bird?" Ludwig asked. "If you missed, nobody can pick you up for animal abuse. You should be fine, Feli. It's not like Kiku or I would rat you out to the authorities, either way."

"It's not that, Lud," Feli said through a mouthful of comfort porridge. "It was raining."

"Have you caught an illness?" Ludwig touched his forehead. "I suppose that could explain this feverish behaviour..."

"No, Lud," Feli swallowed the porridge. "I threw the map at the bird, it was raining, and the map landed in a puddle!"

Ludwig blinked as his mind processed this. "There's still no need to worry, Feli. The map is waterproof."

"Ludwig!" Feli slapped his spoon into his porridge. "The pen  _wasn't_!"

Once more, the cogs turned in Ludwig's brain as his mind took into account what problems now awaited the three of them. On most occasions, he would happily blame the offender, but this was Feli. It was not rare to see him commit mistakes daily due to his habit of acting before thinking. Not only that, but you couldn't remain mad purely because you had to bear in mind that Feli was bound to commit the same mistakes again.

He sighed. "Feli, don't get yourself in a twist. Our pathway has been erased. So what? We'll just have to walk in the general direction we came from and hope that we'll break the surface or regain connection."

"You're not mad at me?" Feli asked, glancing at Kiku then back, spook poised to scoop more porridge.

Ludwig smiled as he picked up the honey bottle and poured a swirled pattern on the surface of his porridge. "Of course not. We all make mistakes and you were frightened. You only acted that way because your instincts made you inclined to do so."

Feli instantly brightened up and wiped his eyes. "I was so scared, Lud, that you'd be so mad at me that you wouldn't be able to speak to me every again!"

Ludwig laughed. "Don't be silly. Now, I'm sure you still have the map, if I may take a look at that."

Tearfully, Feli nodded and pulled the map out of his coat pocket, handing it carefully to Ludwig, who inspected it.

"You can still see faint red markings from where it's been half rubbed off," Ludwig pointed out, to make his friend feel better, and even eased the moodiness that surrounded Kiku. "Oh, and what's this?"

The map's title seemed to be peeling off.

"Where did you get this map, Feli?" Ludwig asked.

"Your brother bought it for us," Feli explained, happily eating porridge.

Ludwig's fingers closed around the title and pulled a little sticker label away. It had been disguised carefully to blend in with the map's surface and colours, but instead, another name entirely was concealed beneath.

"Whoa!" Feli's eyes widened as Kiku watched, curious, porridge in his mouth. "Are we in the  _wrong_ forest?"

Ludwig felt his hands clench tightly around the map's edges. "Gilbert..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Arthur Kirkland** : England  
>  **Ludwig Beilschmidt** : Germany  
>  **Kiku Honda** : Japan  
>  **Feliciano Vargas** : North Italy


	19. Chapter 19

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**

* * *

He couldn't believe what had happened. To think his well-meaning friends had merely fallen for a cruel trick Gilbert had carefully planned and more than likely organised. It had been surprising enough to hear that Gilbert was being so helpful with the organisation of his birthday surprise. He should've been suspicious. He should've thought that, since it was Gilbert's last week before university, his brother would attempt some prank upon him. What better timing than to do it on his birthday?

"Wait, I think I may know what has happened and why myself nor Feli didn't realise when planning the route," Kiku was saying when Ludwig deducted what had happened and how. "This is one of the Twin forests that can be found in this area."

"Twin forests?" Feli looked confused.

"There are two forests that are almost identical," Kiku explained, spreading their map before them. "Some people have described them as mirror images of one another, except one forest is a route take by more people, whereas the other remains remote and untouched for some time."

"I haven't heard of these twin forests..." Ludwig admitted. "Why is one less used? I assume to preserve nature, since the two are so similar."

Kiku shook his head. "As you have seen, roads and paths remain, but are overgrown and unattended. There is a story behind it, but I think it would be unwise to say so, since Feli is rather weak hearted."

"You have to say it now, Kiku," Feli's eyes bugged out. "You can't just leave me hanging here."

"Hmm, OK..." Kiku looked uncertainly between Feli and the map. "It's only a ghost story, so it means we can't really take it literally. I'm not doing this just to scare you, by the way."

"Just tell me, Kiku," Feli said. "I'm more scared  _not_ knowing now."

"As you insisted," Kiku picked up his porridge bow once more. "In 1956, there was an incident that occurred within one of the Twin forests; to be precise, this one. Three teenagers were celebrating some kind of event- I don't recall what- and were out riding in their car. Unfortunately, they were rather intoxicated, so weren't aware of what they were doing or what was happening. Whilst they were out on their trip, their car hit a hiker who had been crossing the road. They hadn't been aware of her, because none of them were really watching the road, but killed her the instant the moment the car hit her."

"The story is as follows: they crashed their car into a tree and it was no longer fit for driving," Kiku continued. "The three young men felt extremely guilty, for the hiker was a young woman not much older than them. They called the authorities, who arrived to take the body away. Their licenses were stripped and they were all sentenced for some months in prison for manslaughter."

"That's not too bed," Feli breathed a sigh of relief. "You must think a lot scares me!"

" _That's_ not the end," Kiku's expression darkened. "Once out of prison, the three young men decided to make a tribute in the forest for the young woman they had killed. On the anniversary of her death, they went to the same spot. They knew where to go, for the tree they had crashed into was still splintered and ruined from the crash. After that, they disappeared for some weeks."

Ludwig glanced at Feli to see his expression was suddenly ashen.

"Because they were supposed to have returned, their families called the authorities and a search party spent some weeks looking for them," Kiku continued. "One evening, on the 23rd of June, 1957, a man walking his dog made a discovery that all those search parties had been unable to do. He was walking his dog through the woods like he usually did and decided to take a different route. In the more obscure side of the forest, he found two corpses hanging from a broken tree, miles away from where the incident occurred. Curiously, the two bodies were missing their limbs. The man immediately contacted the police, who were able to confirm that these were the bodies of two of the young men who had gone missing a year ago. They moved their search parties into the forest for the first time, which sectioned off the forest in search of the third young man, who was now suspected of murdering the other two."

"He was eventually found, but not in the state of mind they ever would have expected," Kiku admitted. "He was gibbering and talking about how the young woman had made him kill the other two, for they had been at the front of the vehicle. He was taken away and locked up for rehabilitation."

"What happened to their limbs, Kiku?" Feli whispered, eyes wide.

"He ate them," Kiku replied, matter of fact. "He needed food and desperately took what he could get."

This is a morbid story," Ludwig commented.

"It's scary," Feli shivered. "Is that the end?"

"No," Kiku shook his head. "The third young man escaped from the institution. Instantly, search parties went to  _this_ forest and discovered him hanging from the same tree in which his friends were, on what has become known as, simply, the 'Hanging Tree'. This is where the story takes a strange turn... Because of his mental instabilities and dangerous tendencies, the third young man had been in a strait jacket, of which he couldn't escape from. However, in the space of time in which the search party discovered his body, you would've needed to have  _two_ able hands to tie the rope around his neck. There was no sign of anyone else ever having been there, and the young man was still wearing his strait jacket. Public access was denied for the next twenty years, but once that was over, nobody was eager to cross these cursed grounds ever again. The incident of 1957 was a case closed forever, but some students in 1983 claimed to hear the noises of a car in the forest, only to find no tire tracks when they investigated."

"I thought you said it was a  _ghost_ story," Feli said, trembling. "Not a  _real_ story with  _ghostly_ elements. Oh my, God. There's three of us!"

"Except I like to think that none of us will eat each other," Ludwig rolled his eyes.

"OK, then, we're hikers," Feli panicked. "What if one of us dies and the events fall into motion?"

"None of that is going to happen," Ludwig sighed impatiently. "Where did you hear that, Kiku?"

"A tourist book," Kiku said. "It mentioned the Hiking Crash of 1956 and I did some research on the internet."

"Gilbert probably knew about this and intends to freak us out..." Ludwig complained bitterly.

"So, we should expect to see him, then?" Kiku asked.

"Yes," Ludwig sighed. "Let's just keep going."

* * *

**Feliciano Vargas**

* * *

They walked through most of the day, heading back towards the road and opting to walk along that instead. After Kiku's story, Feli wasn't in the mood for talking so much. The three of them had stopped to eat lunch, but he had to keep looking about warily, should anything of ghostly origins appear before him, or one of his friends suddenly decided they wanted Feliciano for dinner.

Even though Ludwig was certain that Gilbert would now attempt a prank, Feli wasn't so sure. He kept walking along, terrified by what was to come.

"Whatever happens, we're in this together, right, guys?" he asked timidly.

"Nothing will happen," Ludwig replied. "We may even find our way out before anything does."

* * *

**Kiku Honda**

* * *

The sky had darkened considerably by the time they reached the road. For some reason, their lack of a map had led them down several wrong ways. However, now that they were on the road, Kiku felt safer walking in the darkness. He didn't like how Feli kept clutching onto his arm as they walked, but allowed it since it had been him who had terrified his friend.

The rain had restarted as well. It fell down in torrents; lightning and thunder flashed across the sky. It was the perfect scene for something horrible to occur.

"When will this end?" Feli asked. "Ludwig, Kiku, I'm so sorry for getting the pair of you into this mess."

"It's fine, Feli," Ludwig sighed. "Nothing will happen."

Another flash of lightning lit up the sky, just as there was a low humming sound. The three of them stopped, the rain crashing all around them. It was dark, and they couldn't see a thing.

"What is that?" Feli asked and, although it was in a whisper, he was strangely audible.

"It sounds like an engine," Ludwig rolled his eyes. "It'll be Gilbert."

"I would usually agree with you, but... where is the car?" Kiku looked down the road. "Surely we'd have seen the headlights by now?"

"No, no, this can't be happening," Feli took several steps backwards. "We can't die now."

Kiku glanced at him, just as the lightning flashed once more and he saw Feli back into something horrible. Feli turned and looked at the splintered and broken tree that was dented from the impact of a car, just as the sounds of the engine increased all around them.

"No," he screamed and backed into Ludwig. "We're doomed! We're done for!"

* * *

**Ludwig Beilschmidt**

* * *

The absence of Gilbert only made him wary, but he was unsure of how to deal with this situation. He had spent his entire life adamantly believing that ghosts weren't real and now he was unsure of where his brother was.

Kiku was right. They should've seen Gilbert by now.

The humming noise became louder and louder, surrounding them as they all stood, huddled beneath the Hanging Tree. There was a bright light in the sky that kept flashing, mixed with the lightning and the thunder, and Ludwig was aware that Feli had started crying and murmuring: "Please don't kill us!"

"What is going on?" Ludwig asked.

"We're going to die," Kiku lost his cool, which was always a bad sign.

A white light suddenly blinded the three of them, just as something started emerging from the darkness. It was a big, shadowy vehicle that seemed to be moving at top speed. Ludwig heard himself scream alongside Feli and Kiku, as they huddled together, but then the car suddenly stopped, as did the sounds and the lights. The rain fell down around them in sheets as they stared, horrified, at a normal jeep covered in black, plastic bin bags that were being whipped about by the wind to give it an ominous appearance.

Out from the vehicle stepped Gilbert, who was cackling, as well as Lovino, with another young man who fell out of the jeep alongside him, also wheezing with laughter.

"I knew it!" Ludwig pointed at his older brother. "I knew you'd have a hand in this!"

"You still freaked out, because you didn't expect us to have pre-planned this with sound systems and everything," Gilbert spread his hands out wide, a grin spread across his face. "What do you think, bruder? Awesome, huh?"

"Why?" Ludwig groaned. "Why bother with all this?"

"Happy eighteenth," Gilbert patted him on the shoulder. "I wanted you to remember it."

Feli sniffed. "It was all a joke, then? The story and everything."

"Oh, no, the story was real," Gilbert snickered. "I just gave the book to Kiku because I knew he would look into it, and it seemed fitting that he should read the scary story to you guys."

"Lovi? Tony? Why are you two here?" Feli was still shaking with fear.

"We're in on it, obviously," Lovino snickered. "You looked like you were just about ready to piss yourself!"

"That's because I was!" Feli protested. "What about Papa?"

"I knew he'd be out around this time," an uneasy expression crossed Lovino's face as he checked his watch. "It'll be fine."

"We thought we'd get you and Kiku in on the fear just to ramp things up a little," Antonio smirked. "It worked! The three of you look terrified."

They all stood there, laughing and relaxing when, suddenly, there was the sound of an engine.

"What?" Gilbert said and they all turned and saw the jeep remained off and stationary.

"It's not the sound systems," Antonio remarked, checking a black box he held.

"Then... what is it?" Lovino paled at the sound of a car arriving. "Nobody goes down here."

They saw a vehicle suddenly emerge from the darkness, innocently driving, as if it were being driven by three, unsuspecting teenagers. That was, until it veered to the side, turning towards them.

Gilbert grabbed onto Ludwig and screamed out of panic, whilst Lovino climbed up the Hanging Tree. Feli hugged Antonio, who had stiffened out of fear and Kiku blocked his face, unable to look at what was to become of him.

The car slowed, stopped, and Ludwig's father stepped out, his expression one of pure bafflement.

"What is going on here?" he demanded. "Why are you all hiding in this forest?"

"V-vati?" Gilbert blinked and stepped away from Ludwig. "What are you doing here?"

"I was on my way back from work and saw you and your friends heading in this direction," his father explained. "I got caught in a red light, but I was still curious to see why you were going to this forest. It seems, however, that you were just scaring your brother with some urban legend..."

"Vati!" Gilbert looked embarrassed. "Now  _I_ look like an idiot!"

Ludwig laughed. "Thanks, Gil. This has been a great birthday."

Gilbert turned to his younger brother and blinked in surprise. "What?"

"It was fun," Ludwig said. "You heard me. It was a great birthday. I enjoyed the hiking and I enjoyed the scaring."

"Well, that  _is_ surprising," Gilbert found a smile and gave it to Ludwig. "Glad you liked it."

"How about we finish it with a good meal?" their father suggested. "We can all dry off at home and order something in."

"Now  _that_ sounds good to me,*" Feli grinned, finding his footing once more, and they all started heading off back towards the cars.

The three older boys returned to their jeep, shaken and disgruntled, carrying their speakers, whilst Ludwig and his friends sat in his father's car. They drove away.

"I feel like we were played for fools," Kiku admitted.

"I think we were," Feli still looked a little stressed, even with the promise of food.

"It doesn't matter," Ludwig grinned like the fool he was. "You can't say you  _hated_ it, can you?"

"No, I can't," Kiku smiled. "Far from it."

"As long as my friends are happy,  _I'm_ happy," Feli sighed with relief.

Ludwig lifted his phone and held it so all three of them could be seen. "I say a selfie to commemorate the day."

"Yeah," Feli beamed into the camera.

They all leaned in closer and Ludwig tapped his screen, sealing the moment forever. They were wet, they were cold, but they were happy, and he could most certainly say this was his best birthday yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ludwig Beilschmidt** : Germany  
>  **Kiku Honda** : Japan  
>  **Feliciano Vargas** : North Italy
> 
> **Gilbert Beilschmidt** : Prussia  
>  **Lovino Vargas** : South Italy  
>  **Antonio Carriedo** : Spain
> 
> *Originally, this was Ludwig's line, but I feel like an inclination towards food is more of Feli's thing, aha.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit more of Vintage XOs. I've got a bit of free time, so just more transferring before I finish for the Christmas Break, and then the real content can continue once more.

**Alfred Jones**

* * *

"Hmm, I suppose you three are able to maintain some form of beat," Roderich noted as he watched them.

After the events of the Saturday, Alfred and friends had really toned down their activities to school work and band practice. A drunk Arthur had revealed to each of their parents that they had gone out to the club.

Alfred's parents had been furious. His father had been appalled that he, of all people, would use fake ID to get into a place like that, and his mother had been both stressed and horrified that it was her son that had done that. He hadn't received much of a response from his brother, but he could only assume that Matthew was slightly disappointed in him. As a result, he had been grounded for the next two weeks, which he was moderately fine with, considering his grounding session ended just before half term.

He was aware Arthur had received an even bigger punishment, having his laptop confiscated from him, but only during half term, as well as a week of being grounded. His parents had, according to his friend, been furious that he'd been drinking to that extent, as well as the fact that he'd entered a nightclub despite being underage.

Yao had told him that his parents had barely been able to look him in the eye, but that the trip to Chinatown had cooled things down until his father casually accepted that his son had been allowed to, being eighteen, and that it hadn't been Yao who had organised the event.

Francis never told him how his mother had reacted, but he could assume he'd received the minimum punishment for his behaviour.

Ivan, on the other hand, could be the only one to joyfully gloat that his father honestly couldn't have cared less and, if anything, was slightly proud that his son had overstepped the rules, as well as managed to keep a clear head in a nightclub.

The band and Francis had chosen not to alleviate any details to Roderich, who would scorn them for the rest of their school existence as a result.

"Are we really going to improve fast enough to say we're ready to enter the Talent Show?" Alfred sighed, and finally lowered his guitar.

"We've gone this far," Yao frowned. "We might as well finish what we started."

"You have improved," Roderich sighed. "And I assume you've chosen a song by now to play for the Talent Show?"

"I deliberated writing one," Alfred explained. "But soon realised I was totally hopeless at that. Instead, I chose  _Karma Chameleon_ by Culture Club."

"What song is that, aru?" Yao sneered.

"I even have the music," I strangely have a taste for the 80s."

"You can say  _that_ again," Yao rolled his eyes.

"Hang on, I have my laptop," Roderich said, unzipping it from a black bag that looked like something a businessman would cary around with them. "We can watch it on ViewTube*."

The four of them crowded around the computer. Francis remained at his desk, doing some kind of work assignment, but he appeared to be listening. Roderich swiftly typed in the song and then watched in silence as the song played.

Alfred couldn't help but hip wiggle to one of his favourite songs and did a little dance, until he realised everyone else was staring at the computer screen in what appeared to be disdain. He slowed to a stop and looked at them.

"How are we supposed to play that?" Ivan looked strained.

"I have the sheet music," Alfred beamed proudly. "If we all just learn to play that one song, then we may be able to wing this Talent Show without too much skill."

Roderich made a disgruntled noise. "And I'm supposed to guide you through this, I assume?"

Alfred nodded. "I'm just conscious of time. We've go this week and next week, but then it's half term, and I actually don't own an instrument, so I won't be doing practice during that time... After tat, it's just four weeks and then the Talent Show. That gives us a total of six weeks."

"I suppose it's not a long time to learn an instrument," Roderich frowned. "I think it's good, though, that you've learnt the basics. I think you would need a little bit more to play this, but I think I might be able to write a simplified version."

"What is he wearing?" Ivan looked disgusted.

"80s clothes," Yao leant away with a tight frown. "I honestly don't know how you find this crap, Alfred, but I'm just too tired to not go with it at this stage."

"I agree with him," Ivan glanced at Alfred.

"It'll be fine, guys," Alfred grinned. "We just play this song and, if we have enough fun, then it can be something we'll just enjoy."

They looked a little deflated, but Alfred was sure he could make the song grow on them. Francis just sighed, shook his head, and continued writing carefully.

* * *

**Kiku Honda**

* * *

He was in the manga club. However, he himself was trying to design the poster for the Talent Show. Ludwig had gone back to organising how the event would run, which left Feli to hang around his club once more. His friend had truly integrated himself with the manga community, even though he himself wasn't much of a cartoonist. Kiku smiled as he watched Feli entertain some Year Sevens with purposefully terrible cartoon drawings.

He looked back down at his drawing. He didn't want it to be too stereotypical and base talent off of music, since the show didn't specify what would be there. He also hadn't wanted to be too complicated, so had started with something a little more simple.

His drawing was a microphone illuminated by the light. However, he wasn't sure about it. He felt it was a little too similar to the original, and that Ludwig wouldn't like it.

"I think we've run out of paper," one student was saying and Kiku glanced over.

"Oh, I-"

"I can get some!" Feli jumped to his feet with a wide smile. "Regular white A4, am I right?"

Kiku nodded. "Thank you very much, Feli, for-"

"No problem," Feli raced to the door and paused halfway through. "I really enjoy watching everyone draw!"

He flashed a peace sign and was about to leave, when Kiku suddenly had a light of inspiration. There was Feli, halfway in the door, his back turned from them, hand raised and the other lowered. His pose almost bordered dramatic, but there was something about him that suddenly inspired Kiku.

"Wait, Feli, just stay there!" he said quickly, before the moment passed and his friend stopped in the doorway and glanced at him. "Look forward."

"Are you using me in one of your art pieces?" Feli smiled and looked ahead.

"I might be," Kiku snapped a lot.

Feli laughed and disappeared out of the door.

"That looks exactly like Kiku's work," a student said from the back of the room. "You totally copied everything!"

"Did not!" Yong Soo yelled back. "Why would I do that? Kiku's work  _sucks_ in comparison to mine."

Kiku sighed. "Whether he's copied me or not, it doesn't matter. It's fine to take inspiration from others and develop your own art style from there."

"I didn't copy  _anything_ of yours," Yong Soo gritted his teeth, tearing whatever drawing he held in half and chucking it in the recycling bin. "I don't need you to create my own style."

Kiku merely watched him sit back down again and looked down at his own drawing.

"You can't just treat him like that," the other student complained.

"Don't worry about it," Kiku waved a dismissive hand. "I honestly don't mind."

Yong Soo huffed and started scribbling furiously. Kiku assessed his drawing once more, before lifting the paper and folding it into many sections, before casting it into the recycling bin. He saw a corner of Yong Soo's drawing that hadn't quite reached the bin. He lifted it and took a look.

He could only see an elbow and a desk, but it looked a little bit like an observational drawing. Perhaps it was a self-portrait? Frowning, he let the piece drift into the bin and turned away.

* * *

**Arthur Kirkland**

* * *

Miss Morbrey enthusiastically taught their class. Arthur watched her and thought she wasn't bad at all. Mr Vurkel would probably remain his favourite teacher of all time, but that was because the man had had witty remarks up his sleeve for the entire class, remarks that weren't quite replicated by Miss Morbrey's slightly sarcastic sense of humour. However, she was a good teacher and had shown interest and dedication towards his education and contributions in class. He could definitely say he was learning from her, and she'd been more than happy to help him when he'd approached her after class to go over something with her.

Basch had also been given an easier time since Carlos had returned from holiday, since Miss Morbrey had seated them together. Her earlier saying of sitting beside him to mark work must've only been a joke, since she'd never marked work beside him, instead preferring her desk at the front of the classroom.

His drunken mind should've forgotten Mr Vurkel, but he'd awoke the next morning with a raging hangover and more memories than his former teacher probably hoped he'd had. He remembered the gun and the shots that had been fired across the car park. He'd sometimes found himself dazed and lost in thought over the events- he hadn't told anyone what had happened that night. He'd even lie about sex with a woman he could barely remember what she looked like, only to return home the next morning to the wrath of his parents.

Arthur hadn't even revealed to Feliks the gossip about Mr Vurkel. It had been something he believed too farfetched. More questions had arisen rather than been answered. Mr Vurkel had a new job, but what kind of job involved having a gun and being in gang wars during the night?

Arthur leant back in the chair, completely unaware of Alfred beside him, despite the nudging he felt, and continued to stare straight ahead.

Mr Vurkel had a gun, and was roaming the streets at night.

He wanted to find the man again and demand the answers he wouldn't have been able to press for in the drunk state of mind of last night.

"Arthur, are you OK?"

He raised his head to see Miss Morbrey standing beside beside his desk, a concerned expression on her face. Silence followed as he struggled to answer, but at least the other students didn't snigger.

"You've been very distant," she noted. "And yet, you were still taking everything down, so I wondered if something was wrong?"

He looked at his desk and noticed he'd been writing automatic.

"Oh no, I'm surprised you didn't bring me to attention, Alfred." he chuckled nervously, and then noticed the seat beside him was empty. "What?"

"Your classmates all left," Miss Morbrey said. "The school day ended. Are you sure everything's fine?"

Arthur stood awkwardly, realising he'd been more lost in thought than he'd believed. He started packing his bags.

"Everything's fine," he murmured. "Just... was completely lost there. I think I'm a little tired."

"Alright," she replied. "Well, I have that essay you wrote and I've marked that."

"Oh?" he was sure he'd only given it in earlier that week.

He watched her walk over to her desk, and lifted a folder marked 'Year 13' with her slender hands, whilst he crammed his stuff into his bag. She walked over and handed the paper to him with a pleasant smile.

"You're doing very well," she said brightly. "I think if you just read my feedback and keep up at the pace you're at, you'll do very well in the exam."

He nodded as he took the paper from her and glanced at the front, seeing all sorts of little comments in the margins.

"Pink pen," he accidentally mused aloud and regretted that as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I just use that one a lot," she nodded with a smile, and continued closing her folder.

 _If you weren't a teacher_ , he thought, watching her, until she looked back at him.

"Is there something wrong, Arthur?" she still looked concerned.

"No," he felt his face heat up. "Nothing."

She nodded and broke the gaze.

"Thanks... for marking it," he said awkwardly, and chose to leave the room without awaiting an answer.

 _That was weird_ , he ran a hand through his hair.  _Never do that again, idiot_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Alfred Jones** : America  
>  **Yao Wang** : China  
>  **Ivan Braginsky** : Russia  
>  **Francis Bonnefoy** : France  
>  **Kiku Honda** : Japan  
>  **Feliciano Vargas** : North Italy  
>  **Arthur Kirkland** : England
> 
>  **Roderich Edelstein** : Austria  
>  **Yong Soo Im** : South Korea
> 
> *Don't mind me. Just avoiding potential copyright.


End file.
